


Abendrot

by The_Readers_Muse



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Amnesia, Animal Traits, Canon-Typical Violence, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Flirting, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Language, Romance, Scenting, Temporary Amnesia, just guys being dudes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-14
Updated: 2019-06-06
Packaged: 2019-06-10 02:41:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15281799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Readers_Muse/pseuds/The_Readers_Muse
Summary: He woke up suddenly on the forest floor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own "Grimm" or any of its characters, wishful thinking aside.
> 
> Authors Note #1: I recently got into "Grimm" and fell in love with the Nick x Monroe pairing. This was mostly inspired by the pilot episode, 1x07, 1x08, 1x12 so it is loosely based in the late season one setting – early season two setting. In an AU where Nick and Juliette broke up mid-late season one-ish.
> 
> Warnings: temporary memory loss, injury, care-taking, hurt and comfort, animal traits, scenting, language, flirting, just guys being dudes, drama, romance, first time.

"Monroe?  _Oh thank fuck-_  you're okay. Jesus Christ-"

He woke up suddenly on the forest floor. Senses slapping back like the sting of a rubber band. Half deaf as the echo of dying frequencies whined painfully in his ears. Trying to make sense of what was happening and where the hell he was as the shadows above him slowly condensed into shapes, then double vision, before turning clear enough for him to make out the forest canopy and-

Pain.

Blood.

Dirt.

Human.

Male.

Danger.

He flinched when an unfamiliar face came into view. Barely catching his reflection - his true reflection - in the man's dark eyes before he knew what he was.

_A Grimm._

"Whoa.  _Whoa._  It's okay, it's me," the Grimm soothed, leaking a fresh surge of adrenaline when his hands shot up and hooked around the Grimm's jacket collar. Automatically trying to stop him from reaching for a hidden blade. Uncertain of what to do with the realization, when it slowly dawned, that not only was he with a Grimm, but the Grimm was acting like he knew him. Touching him worriedly, like-

"Who are you?" he rasped, keeping his claws out as he sniffed the air wearily. Head aching and trickling blood down from his hairline as he winced and forced his shoulder to pop back into place. Using the Grimm like an anchor as the other man stiffened beside him. Looking down at him with a question that only grew more serious the longer the moment stretched. "What do you- what do you- you're a Grimm? Why-"

It wasn't even a proper question. He was too rattled and there was no context. All he knew was that his body was screaming, head splitting with a headache he already knew was going to take days to fade. And there was a Grimm- a real life, flesh and blood Grimm right in front of him...not killing him?

"Monroe? It's me, Nick. You just saved me from a- I don't actually know what that was. You were about to tell me before it ambushed us," the Grimm answered slowly, still not making any move to kill him as he helped him sit up. Movements open with familiarity and worry, but not gentle. Like the man knew he could take it, even if he'd gone ten rounds with something nasty and probably lost.

_Nick._

Something in the back of his mind tickled at the play of that single syllable. Like he should know what it meant, or maybe he was just trying to convince himself he should. Everything was just- honestly he didn't even know. The last thing he remembered was-

"Hey, I'm going to check your head, okay? You're bleeding pretty bad. Hey- it's okay. I promise I won't hurt you. We're friends."

He didn't smell a lie as he flinched back. But that didn't make it believable. People like him didn't have the luxury of friends. Especially human ones and definitely not Grimm ones. He wasn't suicidal, thanks.

"I don't have friends," he returned, frowning into the dark. Eying the Grimm for a long second before he finally dipped his head in assent. Willing his claws away. Allowing the man to sink down on his haunches in front of him and brush his hair to the side. Too distracted by the scents mingling between them to ask the half dozen questions he actually wanted to.

The Grimm's posture was submissive as he moved in front of him. Open. Vulnerable. Like he didn't know or care that he'd opened himself up an easy swipe of his claws or a snapping lunge. It wouldn't take much. The Grimm would be dead before he knew he was bleeding. It was his right after all. He had family loyalty to consider. If they knew he'd been face to face with a Grimm and not at least tried to exact vengeance for his Grandfather, he'd be disowned.

But something, something beyond his weider vows, made him still.

_Was it stupidity or trust that stayed the Grimm's hand?_

_And if it was the second then-_

He snarled when the Grimm's fingers found the deep gash just above his right ear. Startled and in pain, but also trying to warn the man off. Uncertain of if he should be trying to get away or stay frozen as the Grimm showed no sign of wanting to finish him off.

Maybe he wasn't the only one who'd gotten beaned in the head. Maybe this was just some weird coincidence and the Grimm had woken up, forgot who he was, and was just weirdly chill about him shifting. Unbothered by the way he was pressing his claws rather rudely into his pulse points and showing him his teeth.

Yeah.  _Right._

Except the baseline of the Grimm's pulse barely even slipped.

It was more like he wasn't afraid at all.

That and he knew his name.

Which kind of blew that whole theory out of the water before it could leave the harbor.

"Yeah, you smoked your head pretty bad on that tree. Thanks for that by the way. I would have been toast. I think you might have a concussion. I don't know if that's a thing for you guys, but yeah you look pretty out of it. I'll need more light to see if I can do anything about it though. I'm guessing you don't want to go to the hospital?"

The facts permeated slowly. Taking comfort in the familiar scent of the forest next to his house. Which meant he wasn't far from it. Which was good. The mouldering stink of Smatherhorn blood was less comforting. But considering he had bits of its green and purple fur between his fingers he figured - concussion or not - that problem was dealt with.

_Had he really saved a Grimm?_

_Why?_

_And why was a Grimm out here with-_

"...Monroe?" the Grimm questioned, one hand falling gently on the curl of his shoulder. Overly familiar and worried. Making him want to shake it off on pure principal, only he had the sneaking suspicion the man was one of the only reasons he was even upright at this point.

"I don't remember," he forced out. Feeling guilty almost immediately when the man's expression fell. Like he'd kicked a puppy or something. "I don't- I don't know you."

The next few beats were almost suffocated with a collection of sharded, broken-off scents. Ones that hurt every time he tried to breathe them in until the Grimm finally nodded and looked him firmly in the eye. Clearly making some sort of decision.

"Okay, I get that. And we'll figure it out. I promise. But we have to get out of here. There could be more of them," the man told him, grabbing his arm like he was about to pull him up before he made an angry, warning sound and yanked his hand away.

He didn't like being touched.

Okay, that was a lie.

Touch was a pitfall.

A slippery slope that could set him off one way or another. And right now he was face to face with a Grimm, injured and apparently sans a significant chunk of his memory and he didn't-

The hand on his arm was back again. This time more careful. Fingers asking for permission as they twitched along the blood-stained cuffs of his shirt before closing around his wrist. Squeezing gently before falling away again. Close but letting him have his space. Like that made it better somehow.  
 _  
_ _Did the Grimm have a death wish or what?_

 _Jesus._ __  
  
"Okay. You don't know me. But I know you. Monroe, you've saved my life at least a hundred times since I met you. You make me dinner and coffee and make sure I know enough not to die on a regular basis. I know you can sense things about me. You know I'm a Grimm. But I'm here, now, and if I wanted to hurt you I would have done it when you were unconscious. Think about it. Right now what you need to know is you're my friend and we're not safe here. So let me help you, okay?"

It was the confidence behind the Grimm's words more than anything that made the decision to trust him easy. Letting the man duck close and help him up. Biting back the pained groan when a couple broken ribs made themselves known. Head aching like a second pulse as he forced his nails back to blunt.

But it wasn't until the Grimm had his shoulder under his - supporting him as his vision swam at suddenly being vertical - that the real mind fuck of the evening had a chance to sink in.

Because when the Grimm hauled him to his feet, the difference in height nearly buried his nose in the man's hair. Forcing him to realize in a thick, molten rush of confused possession and animal recognition, what had been tugging at him since the moment the man had materialized above him.

The Grimm smelled like him.  
 _  
_ _Like he was his._

* * *

He blinked when he realized they were in front of his house. Basically a mirror to the moment the Grimm had led them over to his Beatle and nudged the key out from under the driver's side mat like it was second nature.

There hadn't been another vehicle.

Meaning the Grimm had probably ridden into the park with him.

Which was-  _well_ , coupled with the other stuff it was a lot to process.

"You know where I live?" he rasped hoarsely. Mostly for a lack of anything else to say.

But the Grimm just smiled at him as he parked and cut the engine.

"Friends, remember?"

He shook his head. Hanging back as the Grimm jingled his keys and chose the right key for the front door on the first try. Jiggling the old lock with the kind of familiarity you really couldn't fake.

He hesitated, stalling on the porch as the Grimm opened the door and went inside. Toeing off his shoes to the right of the shoe rack before turning around to dip his head encouragingly. As if he needed an invitation to come into his own damn house.

He ignored him.

Instead, he scented the air. Inhaling the familiar scents of home and territory. Wood. Dryer sheets. Varnish. Metal gears. Fennel. Wool. The oil he used to clean the gears of his clocks when he was working. And-

He blinked.

"You're...you're here a lot," he said aloud. Following the strongest trail of the man's scent inside as the Grimm closed the door behind him. Caught off guard when he realized it was even stronger inside. And not just in the entryway either.

Hell, his home was practically saturated in the Grimm's scent.

 _New_.  _Old_.  _Fading_.

It was the kind of truth you couldn't fake. The nose knows, as his great grand-uncle used to say. And right now his nose was telling him that what the Grimm had said so far was true. Which was probably one of the weirdest things he'd ever expected to have to come to terms with.

"You can tell that?" The Grimm asked, impressed and incredulous as he shrugged out of his jacket and started up the stairs.

"Dude, you have no idea," he muttered flatly. Surprised when the man paused halfway up the bannister. Looking down at him hopefully. Dark eyes searching his face. "What?"

The Grimm shook his head, deflating a bit like disappointment was a taste that'd gone sour in his mouth. Like he'd been hoping for something more, whatever that was.

"It's just, you've said that before."

"I have?" he repeated, with zero confidence. Fingers itching to touch when he noticed an unfamiliar clock half disembowelled on his work table.  _Was_   _that_   _a_   _French_   _Mantel_   _clock_? "When?"

"The second time I met you, actually," the Grimm grinned. "You were hanging out of the car window trying to catch another blutbad's scent. I thought we were going to crash and go down an embankment."

He raised a brow.

"Well, it's true. Though I don't know why I would be doing something as stupid confronting another blutbad in their territory, Grimm escort or not," he returned drily. "That isn't exactly smart. Which you should know, being a Grimm and all."

"Because of a missing little girl," the Grimm responded before taking the rest of the stairs two at a time and disappearing into the upstairs hall. Leaving him with the weird feeling that his house wasn't just his anymore.

The wolf rumbled under his skin. Confused but surprisingly docile. Like some part of it recognized the man for what he was.  _Not a threat._  A Grimm who wasn't a threat. He rubbed his eyes and huffed in frustration, temples throbbing. It was an oxymoron, obviously. But apparently true in this case.

Though, he supposed he didn't exactly have a leg to stand on when it came to weirdness.

He was a weider-blutbad after all.

"Besides," the Grimm called down, voice echoing back like he was in a closed space- the bathroom, probably. "I'm not like most Grimms."

He snorted.

That he believed.

He did a quick circuit of the downstairs as the Grimm rummaged around in the upstairs bathroom. Running water and opening the cabinet under the sink.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting when he realized the man had his scent, but this proved it. Whatever _it_  was.

The Grimm's scent was present in almost every part of the house. He could tell from just a single whiff that the man preferred the padded chair by the window and the right side of the couch. There was even a coffee cup in on the counter with the Grimm's saliva still on it, the coffee cold and hours old.

Everything was melded, like the man was here often enough that he could pick out little differences from each fading trail of scent. Like the scent of wine and happy tones. Adrenaline. Sweat. Leftovers. A hair product he didn't recognize sitting on the top of the recycle pile. Stress. The fading smell of beef. Twin scents that weren't his clinging to the man's clothes - female and male. Blood. Stress. Grass stains. Frustration. That generic detergent he never bought because it always made his nose twitch. Laughter.

"What's the last thing you remember?" the Grimm asked as he came down the stairs with the first aid kit. Raising a brow when the man nudged his side. Guiding him in the direction of the kitchen table as he switched on the light and unzipped the bag. Deciding if was safer to say nothing when he realized the contents sagged like it'd been well used recently. Very aware that he'd picked it up only last month on a whim and hadn't had the opportunity to use it since, thank god.

_Wait._

_If it was this used already-_

_What exactly had this guy gotten him into?_

"Uh," he said intelligently. Shrugging lightly as the Grimm dipped a bit of gauze in antiseptic. Stinging his nose as he fought the urge of tuck it into the collar of his sweater to dampen the smell. "I had to get groceries this morning. And some weather stripping for the attic window. I finally finished that special repair for Mr. Somsburry. Most fussy clock I have ever worked with, I'll tell you. And its-  _oh-_  not here. It was on the table, I was going to mail it out in the morning. Huh. I guess that's not exactly helpful. I don't really get up to that much- I kind of have a strict regimen thing going on."

The Grimm shook his head, encouraging him without words to tilt his head closer as he dabbed gently at the cut on his head. Letting him get used to the movement and the pain before he started cleaning the wound in earnest.

"No, its okay. If you don't remember me that means you're missing at least-  _wow_ , almost eight months."

His eyes blew wide.

"I forgot eight months!?" he nearly yelled, indignant and horrified as he lunged for the calendar. Seeing a hell of a lot of due dates for work he hadn't even started flash by and oh-

He sat back down in the chair heavily. Calendar warping morosely in his fist as the Grimm looked down at him with amused concern.

"Aww man, I missed Christmas," he moaned. Totally bummed now.  _How could he not remember Christmas?_  That was terrible. Halloween had only been over for a month. He'd been set to start lugging the first few boxes out of the attic on the weekend and everything.

"No you didn't," the Grimm told him. Smiling again like he'd managed to say something funny. "Your whole house looked like a Christmas store exploded. It was impressive."

"Oh. Cool," he replied, slightly appeased that Christmas had not gone uncelebrated. Even though he couldn't remember it. "What did you think? Did I have the train set out? I kind of only bring that out every couple of years... it's kind of a special occasion thing."

The last part was forced casual. Unable to stop himself from asking as the man leaned back in and finished cleaning the wound. Handing him an ice pack for the other side of his head that he took gratefully. He knew he kinda went all out for Christmas. And Halloween. And- okay, well the point was it could be a bit much for some people.

"I'm still finding sparkles and tinsel in my clothes," the Grimm teased, smiling easily. Openly affectionate in a way that made his stomach dip pleasantly and oh-  
 _  
_ _Hold the frick on._

The Grimm was oblivious to his internal panicking. Going on a tangent about how he and his aunt had always travelled a lot when he'd been growing up and the most they had on Christmas was a scraggly little Charlie brown tree and maybe a string of lights.

He scented the air again when he was sure the Grimm was busy hunting through the bandages. Trying to find one to fit the long, but shallow cut on his arm. Shifting part way to get a better read on the situation.

But the scent stayed the same.

The Grimm smelled... _good_.

Comfortable.

The other man was keeping the wolf happy just by being here, and even better now that he was close. If he had to describe it, the man smelled like an anchor. Dependable, but sharp. Like he could be something to cling to in a storm just as much as he was something that was worth  _anything_  to protect. Which, apparently he  _had_. If there was any truth to the Grimm's explanation that is.

But leaving it there would be lying to himself. Because there was another layer, beyond just familiarity. Because the Grimm smelled like how he felt. That emotional blip of tension that coiled low in his belly like unresolved pleasure. Like want and warm things. Following an instinct that made him want to go belly up just as much as he wanted to flip the man onto the table and hunt down the source of that smell until he remembered everything.  _All_   _of_   _it_. Until he was dragging his nose down the man's skin and committing him to memory. Maybe even for the second time around.

He'd never felt anything like that before.

Not even when he'd been with Angelina.

"I didn't know it'd been that long. Hard to believe it's been almost eight months," the Grimm remarked. Waiting until he could see the bandage and the intent behind it before he pressed it to his skin and taped the sides.

He shook himself internally. Control in tatters. Letting the Grimm think his discomfort was to due with his wounds as he forced himself to heel. He needed to get a grip. And fast.

_What the hell was wrong with him?_

"Eight months since we met?" he asked, more to fill the quiet than anything. Needing a distraction from his own head as the Grimm abandoned the first aid kit and opened his mish-mash drawer. Pulling out a bottle of aspirin with a determined rattle.

 _Huh. He didn't know he even had aspirin in the house._ _  
_  
"And eight months since I became a Grimm," the man clarified. "I didn't know anything about all this- _nothing_ \- then my Aunt got sick and I started seeing things. I thought I was losing my mind at first."

He winced in sympathy. Talk about a trial by fire.

Personally, he didn't think it did anyone any favors, shielding them from their heritage. Whoever his Aunt was, she hadn't helped matters one bit. A Grimm growing up kept in the dark about who he was and what was really out there? It was like ringing the dinner bell. No wonder this one had attached himself to a Blutbad. He didn't know better!

"Wait, you met me the same time you became a Grimm? How did that even work out?" he exclaimed. Marveling at the fucked-up logistics that would have to be involved to allow the outcome he was currently enjoying. "Grimms and blutbadden don't exactly get along. There's uh- a lot bad blood. Like, a lot a lot. We don't really mix, if you get my drift."

The Grimm sent him a lazy smile as he set a glass of water down beside three aspirin. Looking at him expectantly until he huffed a sigh and took the hint. Not realizing he was so thirsty until the water hit his tongue. Washing away the taste of blood and grit as the man's shadow warped strangely across the table behind him.

"I do. And yeah- believe it or not, you kind of eased me into everything. Probably took it easy on me because I had no idea what the hell was doing now that I think about it. Then everything happened so fast I guess you kind of got over it and we just-"

"Became friends?" he supplied doubtfully.

"That's right."

It sounded so much like bullshit he actually believed it.


	2. Chapter 2

"I know this is a lot," Nick told him softly, sitting down in the chair opposite him at the table. Fiddling idly with the zipper on the first-aid kit before looking up at him with those grey eyes of his.  _Grimm_   _eyes_. Realizing with a heated tic that he was slowly losing the battle to keep referring to the Grimm by title only. Finding the distance more or less ridiculous considering his entire house smelled like the man had rubbed himself into every god damned corner.

He snorted.

"I'll say," he muttered. Feeling a bit like the only stranger in the room before he hesitated and finally straightened. Looking right back at him as his hind brain - mostly throbbing with his injuries and lost in shadow - rumbled with recognition. "But-"

Nick looked at him curiously. Patient and expectant, but guarded as well. Like he didn't want to be too hopeful.

"-it fits," he said simply. Dissatisfied with the phrasing but not having any other way to mash what he felt into words.

But the Grimm -  _Nick_  - just swallowed hard anyway.

Like he'd managed to say something profound.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I felt that way too. And not just about the Grimm thing. But when I met you, the second time, it felt- well, it clicked.  _We_   _clicked_. You were more than just a lifesaver, you were an anchor. It felt like I'd known you my entire life. Even Juliette noticed- my ex. We didn't last long after-"

_Funny how they'd both used that word to describe the other._

_Grimms_   _couldn't_   _read_   _minds_ ,  _could_   _they?_

And like all important soul-baring moments in his life, the mood was swiftly ruined. This time by his stomach. Realizing in a rush that he was starving.  _Holy crap, when had he last ate anyway?_   _Violence was never fun on an empty stomach._  He shot the Grimm an embarrassed look when his stomach rumbled again, loud enough for them both to hear. But the man just grinned.

_Ugh, he needed to speak to some tofu about this._

_Fast._

"Hungry?" Nick asked, up and out of his chair with a creak of stressed wood and a waft of something that smelled a lot like relief. Apparently just as uncomfortable as him with the subject matter as he opened the fridge - rattling the jars and bottles inside. "I don't know if you ate before I called you, things got crazy fast. We got another body this morning and when you told me you got a hit we basically floored it all the way back."

_Why did he get the feeling that was an ongoing trend when it came to the Grimm?_

_What had happened to his nice, ordered life?_

_And more importantly, why wasn't he more bothered by it?_

"Looks like there is some leftover bean burger stuff. Those are pretty good. Just have to make the patties and cook them up. That should be pretty easy," Nick told him triumphantly, sticking his head out of the kitchen in time for him to watch him stand up. Ambling slowly in his wake when the man disappeared again. Muscles stiff and sore.

He wanted to ask about a million questions. Namely about that ex-girlfriend he mentioned and a lot about them. The blutbad and the Grimm. How Nick had managed to force his way into his nice, ordered life and remind him that other things existed beyond the safety of his four walls. Most of all, he wanted to know how he'd done it without him lapsing.

He watched doubtfully as Nick banged around the kitchen. Quickly getting the impression it was with more enthusiasm than talent. Like he'd watched the concept in action, but didn't have a ton of on hand experience. Something told him he did the lion's share of the cooking in this relationship. Or not relationship. Whatever the hell this was.

He washed his hands with a resigned sigh, cuts and scrapes stinging as Nick pulled condiments out of the fridge, seemingly at random. Only realizing they were almost stepping on each other until he gave the black bean mixture a good stir and a sniff. Immediately reaching for some cumin and garlic powder as Nick made a face at him.

"Let me do it," Nick told him firmly. "You rest. Or supervise. Whatever. As long as it from the couch or the table."

"I'm fine," he protested. Fingers itching to save his expensive copper pans as Nick gestured at him with the spatula.

"Not you aren't, but that isn't the point. Look you've cooked for me god knows how many times. Let me return the favor, hmm? I promise I'm not completely useless. Okay?"

His eyebrow skipped up, but eventually he relented. Settling on ranging between the living room and the kitchen table as Nick turned back to the stove-top.

"Uh. You know I'm vegan, right?" he called into the kitchen like an afterthought. Rubbing at the dip in the bandage on his arm as the distinct tart of lemon juice filled the air.

He didn't get an answer, but wasn't really concerned about it. Figuring it was yet another thing the Grimm already knew.

Eight months had managed to change his surroundings in a number of small, understated ways. The kind that made him think they'd happened gradually rather than all at once. There was an unfamiliar thick-knitted blanket flung across the arm rest of the couch. Smelling primarily of Nick when he picked it up and crushed the soft material to his nose. There was an old invoice for a window pane replacement stacked under a magnet on the dusty side of the fridge. A leather jacket that smelled like Nick in the hall closet. But even more bizarre, the smell of a female blutbad- an adolescent- hazed thin and familiar around the edges of his front porch. Confusing him with the lack of challenge or fear scents.

_Why would a strange pup be comfortable in his territory?_

_And why wasn't he more bothered by the idea of his territory being invaded by her?_ __  
  
He wandered outside, quickly setting about remarking his territory. Scenting the air with exaggerated whuffs to ensure everything was as it should be. Which it was, but that didn't stop anything from making a lick of sense, either.

There wasn't another claim. The pup hadn't marked his territory as hers. But her scent was still present. Ranging the entire length of his property in a well used pattern before pivoting up to the house.

She'd visited his markers, but hadn't challenged them.

He cocked his head.

Even his wolf was suspiciously mum about it. It didn't scent as a threat. But at the same time no blutbad really encouraged another blutbad to frequent their territory. Especially if they were unrelated.

He wandered back into the house and made a wounded beeline for the kitchen. About to ask about it only to stop short at the threshold. Bemused as the Grimm zipped around. Apparently knowing where everything was as he hummed along to the soft jazz drifting from the radio by the window.

It was extremely bizarre having another person in his space like this. No less a human. Or a Grimm for that matter. He supposed, more to the point, that he wasn't very good at this. At people. But Nick was acting like that little universal truth as just another middling pitfall he'd gotten over a long time ago.

And maybe he had.

Because his wolf had settled under his skin. Content to merely watch the invader invade further. Claiming a share in his territory with an ease and familiarity that was implied in every movement.

He slid into his seat at the kitchen table, content to watch for the time being. Ignoring the fact that the action was more a controlled fall than anything. Too tired and beat up to care. The Grimm poked at the burgers with the spatula, looking slightly doubtful about their progress. If he'd been less distracted it would have been endearing. As it was, he didn't understand how this closeness had even happened. But it had. And now here he was, stuck in the middle of it, completely content. He wondered what it said about him that he was ready to accept it so easily.

He took at deep breath when Nick rolled up his sleeves. Flipping the burgers half-hazardly as he shoved the chia buns into the toaster-oven with a flick.

"So," he started, suddenly desperate to know as his brain latched onto the first piece of the puzzle despite having absolutely no idea what the finished product was supposed to look like. "How did we uh- meet?"

Something in him warmed when Nick turned immediately. The small lines around his smile crinkling as he shook his head. Already laughing.

"It's a bit of a funny story, actually," the man admitted. "You were getting your mail and I tackled you into the stairs and I tried to arrest you for murder and kidnapping. Then, the rest is history, I guess."

He blinked.

It was like the Grimm was talking about the freaking weather or something.

_Oh, no big deal! I just tried to ruin your life!_

"Getting arrested is funny?" he asked incredulously. Before squinting in suspicion that really had no heat attached to it. "Is that cop humor?"

Nick laughed again. Something which was quickly becoming one of his favourite sounds.

"What rest, exactly?" he pressed, trying not to seem too obvious about what he was fishing for. Hyperaware that Nick was giving off that scent again. The one that made his assumptions a bit too easy to believe. "You said you almost arrested me?"

There was a beat before another possibility crept in.

"What did I do? I didn't..." he paused, miserable. Not quite able to get the words out. "Did I?"

The answer was immediate. With Nick face falling almost comically fast before he scrambled to explain.

" _No._ No. Nothing like that. You were fine. It was all me, honestly."

He exhaled heavily, relieved.

Nick frowned, flipping the burgers with the kind of single-minded focus that reminded him of avoidance and a couple other closeted emotions he tended to ignore more often himself. Trying to get a better read on what was coming next before the Grimm's shoulders slackened and he was talking again.

"You were just there, honestly. You were literally the third wesen I'd ever seen, all in under forty-eight hours. My aunt was in the hospital and I didn't know what was happening to me. I was seeing things I couldn't explain and it was scaring the shit out of me. A college student was found murdered, torn apart on a trail, then a little girl went missing walking to her grandfather's house. We found her trail through the woods and it came out directly across from-"

 _Ah_.

"My house," he supplied. Trying to picture it.

"Yeah," Nick replied with a wince. Sliding a burger onto a bun and handing him the plate, making a 'dig in motion' as he fussed with some daiya at the counter. "You came out of your house- some girls biked past and you woged. I saw you and-"

"Thought I did it?"

The man winced again. Guilt sullying the richer scents of him until it threatened to tart the air with an acrid char that threatened to make his nose wrinkle.

"Sorry."

He took a bite of his burger and chewed thoughtfully. Recognizing it as a recipe he made often. It was a little overcooked, but all in all, not bad.

"Well, in all fairness I thought you were going to kill me back there in the woods, so assumptions and all that," he offered magnanimously, flapping his hand. Consciously aware he was betraying his entire family every second he was in the Grimm's presence and not taking revenge for his grandfather's death.

They were quiet for the rest of the meal. Caught up in their individual thoughts as they made a game out of looking at the other when they thought the other wasn't looking. It felt strangely like they'd done this before. Maybe even more than once.

It wasn't until he'd wolfed back two and a half burgers that he felt some semblance of better. Pushing back his plate and sagging into his chair with a careful stretch. Suddenly exhausted. And apparently it was obvious because the Grimm just looked at him like he knew.

"Tired?"

He nodded, grateful for the out.

"I'm going to have a shower and hit the sack. Maybe things will make more sense in the morning."

Nick took his plate before he could make it a half step towards the dishwasher. Getting the distinct impression he was being coddled as the Grimm sent him a look. Tossing his napkin in the trash.

"Do you think sleep is a good idea?" Nick asked, scratching at the back of his head and looking doubtful. "I should probably be waking you up every few hours if you do have a concussion."

He shook his head, stretching to get rid of the kinks. Feeling the twinge from his shoulder as he rolled it carefully, appeased that nothing was broken.  _Lord knows he'd dislocated his shoulders dozens of times when he was younger._  Nose twitching when the stink of Smatherhorn blood offended his nostrils.

"Blutbadden are pretty durable. Drop us and we tend to bounce more often than not," he countered easily. Heading towards the stairs as Nick followed close behind. Nearly colliding with his back when he stopped suddenly.

_Wait. A Smatherhorn?_

"It was purple and green, right?" he asked quickly, wheeling around. Ending up closer than he intended as the Grimm's breath gusted across his skin. "Kinda looked like a snake and a furbie had a kid and it popped out with wings?"

"Sounds about right," Nick answered, making a face at the description before his expression went serious again. "Why?"

"Oh," he uttered.

_Well, that explained it._

"Oh, what? Do I need to go get the books?" Nick asked worriedly.

He shook his head.

"I don't think so. I have just heard- second-hand, probably third-hand, honestly. Smatherhorns exhale a sort of gas that does all sorts of not so fun stuff, depending on the wesen. It's really potent during puberty though. When their hormones are completely out of whack. Sometimes when they are pregnant too. Were you...we after a teenager or something?"

The Grimm nodded.

"Yeah, a girl on the cheer team at her high school. Some guy asked her out and never came back from their date. There was blood on her car. I actually think it might have been an accident. Maybe he pressed for more than just a goodnight kiss and she got scared and- well- then her folks got involved. Lets just say they didn't take too kindly to a Grimm trying to connect the dots."

"So I can attest," he muttered. Rubbing at the back of his head. "Look, female Smatherhorns are ten times more powerful then the males. A real handful. And rare. If she exhaled and I was close by I probably got a system full of that crap. This is probably less about a concussion and more because of that. I honestly don't know anything about how blutbads handle Smatherhorn toxin. They don't like us much. And frankly the feeling is mutual. That was the first time I've have ever run into them before. I think, anyway."

"So you think it just needs to filter out of your system on its own?" Nick asked, frowning. One hand on the banister behind him like he was trying to keep him downstairs and close.

"It's my bet," he answered, shrugging. Proving a point to himself and the Grimm when he took a step upstairs, then another. Saying the last part firmly. "I'm having a shower."

"Will that help?" Nick asked, following him up. His closeness making him feel just a little bit crazy and okay- maybe a little harassed as the man's tone went hedging.

"Can't hurt, unless the toxin is also water activated," he slung back, grumpy at the assumption he needed a second shadow. Regretting it only mildly when his tone only made Nick's expression go that much more determined. Like those silver-grey eyes could suss out a lie just as well as his nose could. Only this time there was no lie, just a niggling weakness in his muscles that told him it could have been much worse. That he'd feel it tomorrow, but a shower wasn't going to send him into a dead faint or even a-

"Monroe.."

_Right. Focus._

"I'll be fine," he assured, retreating into the bedroom. "Look man, I have blood and dirt all over me. I need to get the stink off. Smatherhorns don't exactly have a pleasant aroma, if you get my drift."

But the Grimm tailed him into the bedroom anyway. Muttering empty threats about dragging him to the hospital, just to be sure, before a sudden influx of scents nearly knocked him sideways. This time causing the Grimm to collide with his back when he stopped abruptly, sniffing madly. Whirling around before the man could so much as rebound.

"It smells like  _you_  in here," he accused. Eyes flashing red in the dresser mirror. Completely at a loss for any rational words as his pulse beat between his temples. Trying to unpack exactly what he was feeling as the man's scent wafted enticingly from the nest of unmade sheets. Faint, but absolutely damning.

_The Grimm had slept in his bed._

_Oh jesus._

"Hmm?" Nick uttered, looking from the room to the bed, then back to him. Ramping everything up another few notches before tanking his assumptions and confusing him even more than he'd been in the first place. "Oh, I crashed here last week. Friday night? I had a few too many - same as you - and you took the couch. Still not sure why. In my defense, I was wasted and you insisted, actually."

But now Nick was looking at him like he was wondering if it meant something else completely. Watching him with those piercing Grimm eyes, only with none of the empty coldness he'd heard so much about. That wasn't Nick. No, Nick was looking at him like-

"Wow. I let you get away with a lot," he muttered. Brain scrambling to come up with an explanation that didn't involve either pining or mutual nudity and failing hard. Meanwhile, like the utter traitor it was, his wolf just hummed with interest. Snuffling self-satisfied like it'd called everything from the get-go.

Because the truth was, there was only one reason a blutbad would give up their bed to another. Well, okay, two. But essentially it came down to the same desired effect.  
He either wanted to join him there or- if he couldn't have that, the consolation prize was having the man's scent thick in his sheets. Something to enjoy when the lights went out.

 _Yikes_.

"I suppose it's part of my charm," Nick told him with a grin. Tossing him his housecoat from the hanger on the back of the door. Somewhat appeased when the tartan material scented firmly of him and him alone. Realizing with a jolt that he'd started to just assume that his castle had turned into a duplex by this point.

He rolled his eyes.

If he wasn't so enthralled he'd be seriously questioning his future self's choice in mate.

_Wait._

_No._

_Crap._

Because the thing was, he clearly hadn't washed the sheets since then.

And he wouldn't.

Not until he had too.

He'd glut himself on the man's scent until-

He was tempted to pinch the bridge of his nose. Only refraining because he knew the man would call him on it and that was a conversational black hole he absolutely did not want to have, if ever. Hyper-aware that he was being watched as Nick shuffled closer. Like he wanted to touch, but wouldn't dare if there was a chance he'd catch him off guard. Reminding him of all the reasons why he really,  _really_  needed to be alone in his own space and recharge for a little while.

So, naturally, he deflected like his life depended on it.

"Uh, well, no amount of charm is going to make me comfortable with you being here while I take my pants off," he pointed out. Opening a drawer and tugging out an unfamiliar, but soft looking shirt and an old pair of sleep pants. Flicking the material at him in a clear  _'off you go'_  motion that barely kissed the inner of the man's wrist. "So- shoo."

The Grimm just looked at him. Eyes soft and fond. Blinking once, then twice, like it hadn't quite sunk in before it all dawned in a rush.

"Oh, right, sorry."

The hot curl of an embarrassed flush was delicious as it wafted through the air between them. This time having the distinct pleasure of following the man down the hall as Nick beat a hasty retreat towards the stairs.

"I'll be right here," the Grimm told him, pausing three steps down. The muscles in his forearms flexing as he used them for balance. "Downstairs. Just call if you need me."

"Wow, so thoughtful and sinister at the same time," he said sarcastically, tossing his housecoat over his shoulder with muted flare. Ignoring the sting of the cuts and bruises- determined not to show anymore weakness than he already had. He wouldn't be able to stand the coddling. "I bet you say that to all the blutbadden."

His stomach dipped when the Grimm shot him a smile and rolled his eyes.

"That sounds like the old you," Nick told him cheerfully. Trampling down the rest of the steps with obvious enthusiasm before- "Don't use all the hot water!"

He made a chuffing noise deep in his throat in response. Safe in the knowledge that the Grimm couldn't have possibly heard as he closed the door to the bathroom with a forceful click. Letting his back rest against it for a good couple of seconds before he straightened again. Wrinkling his nose at his own stink.

He took a good long look at himself in the mirror. Looking for clues, beyond the cuts and bruises. He grabbed a face cloth and scrubbed at a patch of dirt on his cheek. Eyes blood-shot and tired, but just as familiar as they always were as they stared back at him. But other than longer hair and more of a beard than he remembered seeing that morning, there was no sign his life had changed in any significant way.

And yet, here he was, flirting with a god damned Grimm. Saving a Grimm. Getting injured for a Grimm. With an entire house that smelled like Grimm and apparently absolutely no desire to rip the man's throat out to boot. In fact, his problem was completely the opposite.

He pulled off clothes carefully. Inspecting the distinct bruise across his ribs in the general shape of Smatherhorn hooves. Because,  _yeah_  they also had hooves. It was hard to keep track considering they had three sets of limbs, all with different attachments. Mulling over what Nick had said as he started the water and gingerly stepped into the stall.

The idea that he was new and not the same person he'd always been was a strange idea to chew on. Because the Grimm wasn't wrong. Despite what he did or didn't remember, he wasn't the same person he'd been a few hours earlier. The Monroe who ran around in the forest with a Grimm. Who invited a Grimm into his house and his bed. He was somewhere between that person and who he was now. The Monroe of eight months ago suddenly thrust into the future.

It wasn't until he leaned back in the shower - hands braced against the wall and letting the water scald down on his back - that he was able to admitted to himself that the him with the eight months and change was playing a very dangerous game.

* * *

The shower didn't help.

Because even there he could pick up bits and pieces of the man's scent. There was even an unfamiliar bottle of body wash he knew he'd never buy tucked into the far corner with water caught under the rim. Enough to tell him that the man had showered here recently.

He groaned as he toweled off.

He was going to have to deep clean his entire house if he wanted to get rid of the smell.

Which he wasn't sure he actually  _did_.

_But it was the point of the thing!_

_Ugh._

He collapsed into bed. Regretting it instantly when pain flared from his wounds. Shifting around gingerly, wincing, until he found a somewhat comfortable position. Hyperaware that Nick was showing absolutely no signs of leaving. Loading the dishwasher in the kitchen and wiping the counters. Doing all the busy work he usually did before heading to bed as the lights were gradually switched off in every room.

He couldn't help but keep track of him as he looked up at the ceiling. Listening to the Grimm's footsteps pad around downstairs. Talking low to someone on his cell when it buzzed and sent him hurrying outside to answer it. Apparently taking the opportunity to grab something from his car before he was back inside and flicking the deadbolts. Camping out on the couch downstairs with an exhale that would have been audible even without his keen ears. Rustling around with the throw blankets until his heartbeat gradually slowed into sleep.

He wasn't sure when he followed him down, but he had a feeling it wasn't long after.

* * *

Things still didn't make sense in the morning.

But he figured that since the Grimm was still there, asleep on the living room couch like he owned it, that was basically the next best thing.

Or maybe he was lying to himself again.

Self-awareness was kind of a bitch like that.


	3. Chapter 3

It took him longer to get down the stairs than he'd like to admit. Trying to school his breathing when he realized he was the only one up. Getting a rather pleasant wash of scents as he reached the landing. All centered around the Grimm-shaped lump under the blankets in the living room. He approached the couch cautiously, deciding that friendly or not it wasn't a good idea to surprise a Grimm. Instead, he peered over the back as the man slept. One hand over his head, the other drifting into dead space between the couch and the coffee table.

He stared for a long time before finally shrugging and tottering off to do his morning Pilates.

Assuming at least _that_  hadn't changed.

_Unless they did it together?_

He paused, looking back at the couch before shaking his head.

Nah. Nick didn't look like a Pilates guy.

Then again... _he_ did Pilates.

Huh.

* * *

He doubled his workout, pleased when it left him with an achy, energized feeling. Being careful not to jostle his injuries too much, but actually feeling far better than he had when he woke up as he put away his gear and padded into the kitchen.

He was just about to break the quiet with the whir of the coffee grinder when Nick yawned - jaw popping. Sending a sleepy good morning in the vague direction of the kitchen as he paused at the counter and tried not to let the surge of déjà vu hit him like a load of bricks.

Because it felt familiar.

Like this exact moment had played out before.

"Coffee?" he offered firmly, popping his head out of the kitchen just in time to catch the man in mid-stretch. Shirt riding up to reveal an enticing strip of skin. Desperately trying not to stare as his world condensed down a scattering of moles and a grand total of about three dusky looking hairs. "It's a Guatemalan roast. Very robust."

"My favorite," Nick replied, wandering into the kitchen after him. Sleepy and mellow in all the ways he didn't know he found appealing until that very moment. "I didn't know you stocked back up. You've been holding out on me."

He snorted, slightly mollified. Choosing to ignore the little voice that wanted to snark something about how he honestly doubted it. He had a sneaking suspicions Nick got his way ninety-nine percent of the time when it came to just about everything.  _Somehow he doubted he was the exception_.

"Not like that's high praise coming from a cop," he pointed out, sniffing haughtily. "You still smell like cheap bargain bin roast."

"Why do you think I'm over so often?" the man teased, eyes fluttering. Proceeding to spoon at least half a cup of sugar into his cup as he looked on, horrified. Forced to realize, as he gradually pried the sugar bowl out of the Grimm's hands and put it safely out of reach, that he might not be the only one who was flirting. Because Nick just smiled to himself. Watching him through the half-mast of his lashes like he had a secret.

 _It all felt very…rom-com. Only mostly without the second-hand embarrassment._  
  
They ended up making breakfast together. Sitting down and knocking knees as they chowed down on breakfast sandwiches and steaming cups of coffee. The entire scene decidedly domestic as Nick scrolled the local news on his phone and he dumped everything but the flyers from the day-old newspaper on the side table and paged through it to see if there were any good deals. Slowly ramping up for the day as the closest clock ticked past 8:45am and he made a point to refill their cups with the last of the French press.

"Still don't remember, huh?" the man asked between mouthfuls of toast. "I'm not going to lie, I was hoping you'd wake up and- like you said yesterday-  _bounce_. I'm used to you healing pretty quickly. Kind of gives me some perspective, actually."

"I'm fine," he assured, hating the frown that'd taken up residence on the man's face. Unable to shake the feeling there was something dangerous about it. Like they'd had this conversation before and he'd dug his heels in. "I feel loads better than last night. Woke up sore but the Pilates stretched it out of me."

"Are you feeling any better about all this though?" Nick asked. Waving his fork around. "Is there anything you want to know?"

 _'Want a list?'_ he thought sarcastically.

"I think so," he admitted eventually, chasing a bead of coffee around the rim of his cup before setting it down. Defeated by the gritty texture of the dregs. Hesitating for long enough that it got him a look. "I had dreams. Really vivid ones. You were in them. I think they might have been memories."

"What kind of dreams?" Nick pressed.

He leaned back in his chair. Still trying to make sense of the fragments.

"We were in the forest...I was chasing something-  _someone_. You were telling me not to lose her. But the scent was wrong. Wounded and afraid, but not prey. Then we were here, watching TV. It was quiet. Good. Uh, I mean, I don't think it was connected, but it felt...familiar."

"If it felt familiar it probably happened," Nick told him carefully, twirling his fork between his thumb and forefinger. Making him want to ask about the first part – the part the man deliberately wasn't commenting on - before he got distracted by that warm scent rising between them again. "I'm kinda over here a lot."

The chime of quarter past nine gave them both an out.

"Don't you have a job?" he asked after a moment. Clearing their plates and cups as Nick checked his cell.

"I called in," the man replied. "Barring a murder spree, they can do without me for the day. I have a lot of sick leave saved up anyway."

His eyes strayed automatically to the Glock and holster that'd been left on the counter with the first aid kit the night before.

_Oh, right._

_A cop._

"So, a cop and a Grimm...how does that work?"

"Cop first actually," Nick explained, wandering out to the living room and unzipping the duffle bag he must have gotten out of his car the night before. Pulling out a toothbrush and a change of clothes as he headed towards the bathroom to change. "And don't knock it. It's how I met you."

"Didn't that almost get me arrested?" he shot back, the picture of false innocence. Hearing the amused snort it got him as the bathroom door swung firmly shut. Catching the sound of the toilet seat knocking against the water tank as he ambled back into the kitchen and set the dishwasher.

It was bizarre how normal it all seemed.

He took that weird ass thought as a cue to get ready for the day himself. Having to reacquaint himself with the contents of his closet as more than a few items rang zero bells. Hunting and pecking around the line of hangers as he tried to convince himself he actually remembered when he bought that shirt or that pair of jeans, only to give up half-way down the line because he figured he was trying too hard. Reduced to running his fingers down soft, comforting fabrics because at least then he understood why he bought them.

He'd always had a thing for texture.

In the end he settled on simplicity. Choosing jeans and a green v-neck t-shirt that still had the tags on it. He grabbed a sweater as an after thought. Trying to tell himself that it was because he couldn't remember wearing it and not that it smelled so thickly of Nick he could have sworn the man had spent half a day just rolling in it.

And no. He refused to think about that anymore than he already had, thank you very much.

* * *

"Hey," Nick greeted. Looking up from the couch as he came downstairs. "I was reading a thing about short term memory loss. There are a few things they recommend to try and jog your memory. Wanna try?"

He shrugged, grabbing his keys.

"Sure, can't hurt. Beats being stuck inside all day waiting for something to happen."

He didn't fight him on it when Nick snagged them from him before he could make it off the porch. Sedately following in his wake as the keys jingled in Nick's hands like an overture.

"The one with all their memories gets to drive," the man said breezily. Starting the engine. Watching him make a face at the smell of drying blood and dirt from the night before.

_Ugh._

_He was going to have to get the entire interior shampooed. Again._

_Wait. Again?_

_When had that happened before?_

He was still picking his brain when they took an unfamiliar turn into a residential area five blocks up from his street.

"Mind if we stop by my place? I need to grab a few things," Nick asked as they stopped at a crosswalk for two kids to cross the street on their scooters. One of them was wearing a bright red sun dress with little white bows ringed around the collar. But he barely noticed. Too busy looking at Nick as the man's throat worked through a lean-edged swallow. Highlighting a pleasant rash of stubble he kind of wanted to follow with his teeth.

There was something about seeing the Grimm in the sunlight. In his car. Surrounded in all his smells that made him feel intensely relaxed. Unable to shake the feeling that everything was as it should be.

Less than 24 hours ago he would have laughed in his own face.

And probably booked himself an appointment for a CAT scan.

But now he knew better.

It was absolutely insane, sure.

But he liked it.

If Nick noticed he forgot to answer, he mercifully didn't call him on it.

* * *

He'd barely closed the passenger door when a sudden influx of virulent blutbadden scent nearly sent him careening sideways. Forgetting to comment politely on the nice two-story home with sweetheart shutters and landscaped walkway. Forgetting to keep his mouth closed as he tried to take in as much of the scent as possible without shifting. Forgetting not to trip over his own feet as his boots barely cleared the concrete sidewalk. Forgetting not to be so damn obvious about it as his hands closed into violent fists at his sides.

Hell, he was pretty sure he actually forgot to breathe.

_Because it was him._

His scent was all over the place.

Drenched into the grass and the fence.

Hanging so thick in the air around Nick's home it's meaning was unmistakable.

A clear warning to any wesen in the area that this was his territory.

That the Grimm who lived here was protected.

_His._

"You okay? What is it? Dizzy?" Nick asked worriedly. One hand coming up under his elbow, steering him towards the front porch. Hands warm. Grabby. Worried.

 _Holy Jesus, he'd pissed on a Grimm's fence!_ __  
  
"Yeah, fine, nothing!" he managed. Realizing he was sniffing the air just shy of manically before reigning himself in by brute force. Forcing himself to get a grip and shrug the man off as they walked up to the house on his own power. "What did you need again?"

Nick just looked at him as he flushed with embarrassed heat. Looking up at him like he wanted to ask but didn't. Just patted around in his pockets for his keys and turned them in the lock. Giving him a whole new problem to deal with when the concentrated scent of the man's home rippled over him in waves.

He waited until the Grimm had gone upstairs - muttering about razors and a charger - before he rushed out the front door and into the back yard, following the scent trail. He sniffed the air, shifting for a handful of seconds, just enough to get the full picture, before shaking it away again. The animal under his skin howling in approval.

Because the claim was indisputable. Etched into the stain on the wood fence enough to indicate a long-term claim. He'd been doing this for weeks, probably months. The last spraying was barely four days old. Drenched in the powerful rank of a blutbad male.  _His scent._

Only it was different from the scent that clung to his fence back home.

This wasn't just a claim on territory, it was a claim of  _mate._  Telling the entire god damned world that his chosen lived here and anyone who trespassed or tried to take what was his would die bloody and screaming. As was his right.

He buried his head in his hands in the middle of Nick's slightly overgrown back yard.

_Oh man, he was so fucked it was unbelievable._


	4. Chapter 4

While the restaurant and park Nick took him to didn't spark anything, he enjoyed the outing regardless. Listening to Nick chatter about his cases and Grimm work and how they'd sat on this bench once eating breakfast. More or less accepting the strange burst of affection he felt as the man went on tangents in his excitement only to double back and sheepishly finish whatever he'd been saying previously. Giving him the impression that the man truly did enjoy being a Grimm, despite the fact it'd been thrust upon him.

He could appreciate that kind of passion.

Respect it even.

Especially considering Nick didn't seem like most Grimms he'd ever heard about.

Still, it was strange to hear about your life second-hand. Even weirder when it felt a lot like it was from a third person perspective as well. Listening to Nick talk about a Monroe who took down Siegbarste and fought back to back with him in an underground Lowen death ring. Who always said yes when Nick called. Who talked his ear off about clocks and the creature feature of the week. Who'd apparently saved a Grimm's life a dozen times with only mild complaining.

It reeked of second-hand embarrassment.

Leaving him tempted to yell-  _liar!_  just as much as he was desperate to hear more. He wanted to know everything, just as much as he was afraid to. Wanting to understand how this had happened and where they stood, when the reality was his wolf had already decided.

_Nick was his._

But the real question was, did Nick know that?

* * *

It wasn't until they were on their way back that everything came to a head.

He was looking out the window. Mind back at Nick's house and the claim he'd made, when Nick's hand came down questioningly on the knob of his knee. Like he'd been trying to get his attention for a while and had finally resorted to touching him to get his attention.

It startled him so badly he slammed his knee right into the glove box with a sickening crack. Cursing so thoroughly that Nick swerved over to the side of the road and cranked the car into park.

The sudden silence was deafening and humid-close when the Grimm killed the engine and turned towards him.

"Alright, that's enough. What is it?" Nick demanded, eyes ringing dark.  _Grimm_   _eyes_. It was such a clear challenge that he didn't have to look in the side mirror to know his had stained red. But this time he didn't shake them away. Trying to prove a point as he gripped the door handle right enough that the upholstery creaked.

 _'Let him look,'_  part of him snarled. Angry and cornered as he peered longingly down the street - realizing they were barely two blocks from his house. So close, but so far.  _'Let him see exactly what he was getting into.'_  
  
"I know you well enough to know something's bothering you," Nick murmured. Peering at him with an open expression that was really just a precursor to movement. Because the Grimm shifted and reached forward when he didn't reply. The action was slow, with an exaggerated sort of flair to make sure he saw it coming. But he still let out a growl anyway. Eyes fixed on where Nick's hand was resting on his knee. Drawing his line in the sand as the warmth of it soaked into the tendons jumping and twitching under his skin.

"I wish the feeling was mutual," he answered honestly, without a trace of sarcasm or ill-will. Because if he did he'd at least know where they stood. For better or worse.

"Look, what you're going through? I can't imagine what that's like. And I know this is a lot to process, but if there's something else going on here, I figure I need to know about it. I  _want_  to know about it. Monroe, I want to help. So let me. Please."

It was a slip-side gamble. He wasn't stupid. Everything would change no matter what the man's answer was. But the price was still high, maybe even too high. Because even though it'd barely been two days since he'd lost his memory, he knew enough to know how much Nick meant to him. What his presence in his life, no matter the form, meant.

And he couldn't risk that.

He answered anyway.

Because he was pathetic and desperate and he wasn't in control anymore. He needed that last desperate hail Mary. And if he waited, the Monroe that _wasn't_  him, the one who'd carefully cultivated this living, breathing other life, might never have the balls to-

Nick was still looking at him when he finally exhaled and lifted his head from where it had been glue to the head-rest. It wasn't a soft sound. It was full, stagnant and weighed down with all the heavy things that came along with fear and the very real potential for loss.

"I have to ask..." he started, voice unsteady. All clipped rhythms and hair-pin curves for syllables. Staring blindly out the windshield without actually seeing anything. Knowing that the last thing he'd be able to do right now was meet Nick's eyes. "Are you- are we- together?"

The gesture he used to finish the sentence was weak-wristed. Awkward. But it was worse when Nick just stared. Blinking at him from the driver's seat like it was actually taking a couple seconds to sink in. Worse than that, it was like he'd never considered the possibility at all.

A hot flush of shame rolled over him.

_Christ, he was so stupid._

He was a halfway out of the car before Nick stopped him. Thumping him back into his seat with the irritated groan of straining springs. One-hand gripping his arm like the last thing he wanted was for him to leave.

He didn't know what that meant, but he felt like the man's reaction spoke for itself. Nick didn't want this.  _He'd never wanted this._  He'd just made the biggest mistake of his life and now he was about to lose what was probably the best friend he'd ever had over it.

"Oh, no," Nick finally managed, speaking quietly. "We aren't like that- we haven't ever- I mean…why do you ask?"

He shook his head.

"It doesn't matter."

"No," Nick told him. Struggling to look him in the eye as he tried to look anywhere else. "Tell me _. Please._  I'm still pretty new to all this. Besides, it's never nothing. Monroe, you can tell me."

"You smell like mine," he said bluntly. Stilling everything to something beyond the quiet as the words came out louder than he'd intended. Hating himself.  _Hating Nick._  Hating the Smatherhorn. But most of all, hating the Monroe that'd let all this slide until he'd come along and made assumptions he had no business making. " _You're drenched in me_."

His eyes flashed red in the rear-view mirror. Enough that he slammed them shut a second later. Only to realize he'd made it worse when that forced him to listen to every small little shift Nick made as he moved restlessly bedside him.

"My house...you're everywhere," he said miserably. "I can tell where you like to sit...the blanket you use. Even your house, I marked it. And you smell...that moment in the forest when you helped me up? I could smell me on you and I thought-"

He broke off.

Nick was silent for a beat, but even that was too long.

"And it isn't a friend thing?" the man asked. Voice giving nothing away despite his hands tightening around the steering wheel. Wisely letting the marking comment slide back into obscurity where it belonged.

_Small mercies._

"It is. Or, it could be- to a point. This isn't," he explained haltingly. Frustrated by a sudden lack of adjectives to explain exactly what this all meant. Humans were complicated.

Outside the car the wind picked up. Surrounding him in familiar smells. Pollen. Grass. Engine Coolant. A den full of Drang-Zorn that'd apparently moved into the house on the end of the street near the river. Typical.

"It isn't often, but we do marry and make friends outside the wesen community," he continued slowly. Letting the relative chill of the window seep into his skin. "I've heard about blutbads making human friends, even dating casually. If they get that close, close enough to be trusted and considered pack, then the blutbad will make sure they're protected. Especially since they'd consider them in need of it. It's instinctive. Even if that person doesn't know the truth, they'll leave enough signs to make it clear to any wesen in the area that person is under an alpha's protection."

Maybe that was even how it'd started.  
 _  
Innocent._

Maybe he'd marked the man's fence to cut him a break and keep the vultures from circling. Making any wesen or reaper think twice about coming after a newly minted Grimm that had a grudging blutbad for muscle.

But the point was, it hadn't stayed that way.

"What makes this different?" Nick asked, cutting right to the heart of it in a way he figured he could easily love or hate him for, depending on which side of the coin he was on.

He hesitated.

"Monroe."

He sighed. Dragging a hand down his cheek as the bristles of his beard rasped down the inside of his palm.

"I guess I'm doing myself a lot of favors tonight," he said wearily, shaking his head as a canned sort of laugh left his throat like sharded glass. "You know, this is all going to be pretty damn awkward when I get my memories back."

There was a steady, thickening beat before-

"Maybe not as much as you'd think," Nick admitted sheepishly.

His head swiveled around so fast he saw double. Looking at Nick,  _really looking_ , for the first time since he'd pulled the car over and started this mess. Jaw dropping when a distinctly hopeful scent freshened the stale air between them.

"I didn't think you swung that way, honestly. Didn't think I did before you came along, come to think of it," Nick told him quietly, running a hand through his hair. Making it ruff up in endearing spikes that made him want to smooth it back down.

_Wait._

He blinked.

 _What_?

"I mean, I was barely treading water for a long time and you were the only person in my life I didn't have to lie too. But then I realized something… all that time we were spending together? It wasn't just about Grimm stuff. It happened so gradually...so naturally, that I didn't realize it. Not until I almost lost you in that Lowen fighting ring. But after that I didn't know- I mean, in my defense you did have that thing with Angelina, so how was I supposed to know you'd even be open to-"

Every muscle in him stiffened.

"Angelina? How do you know about her?" he demanded. The hair on the back of his neck prickling like hackles.

"Oh," Nick murmured, suddenly looking conflicted. Guilty. "Well, I ran into her and Hap a while back during a case. That was ages ago."

He scrubbed his hands down his face again. Momentarily distracted from one bombshell to another. This couldn't be good.

"She was here? In Portland? And Hap? Jesus Christ, why? Bad things happen when we get together in a pack. Last time I saw her she nearly tore my throat out for breaking up with her. Which really isn't something you do with female blutbadden by the way. It usually goes badly for all parties. And that was years ago, when I decided to go weider."

Nick drummed his fingers on the dashboard. Kicking up a fine layer of dust that made his nose twitch. On the cusp of having to sneeze.

"Yeah, well, I don't think there was much of a choice for all parties," Nick informed him. "Hap's house blew up and he called you. It was weird because me and Hank were working the case and then you showed up at the station to pick him up. Angelina came into town to check on him...I guess."

Of course she did. She'd never made secret about what she thought of his weider-lifestyle. Telling him more than once that he better be careful because she might not be willing to take him back when he came crawling back to her, belly up when the therapy didn't take. Reminding him with bared teeth that he couldn't run from what he was, at least not forever.

Obviously, that hadn't sit well with him.

"Hap seemed like a good guy," Nick offered. Pointedly not saying anything about Angelina, which only made him that much more curious.

"He is," he admitted, frowning. Getting the distinct impression Nick wasn't telling him everything but decided to let it go, for now. "Can't stand him half the time, but yeah. Wouldn't hurt a fly that one. Got a bit of a peppermint schnapps problem. Rolf and Angelina always babied him, he was the runt of the litter- they don't tend to be aggressive, for blutbadden anyway."

He worried the inside of his cheek with his teeth. Soothing himself with the reminder that nothing in his house smelled like Angelina. The female blutbadden's scent that hung around his place wasn't hers. He'd know. Whenever Angelina had been around, she hadn't stayed for long.

And that was a good thing, he told himself firmly. Hating himself a little bit more for the part that still lived and breathed for the good memories. He wasn't that person anymore. If he'd ever really been. There were things about that life he missed but she wasn't one of them. She hadn't been for a long time.

"You didn't answer my question," Nick broke in, determined. "What makes this different? Different than just being friends or pack? What has you so rattled? I mean, its only fair, because I just kind of spilled my guts here and I don't even know if  _that_  is something you want.  _With_   _me_. If it is mutual or even possible. And that goes for the you now and the you that remembers the last eight months. More him though, I'll be honest."

Nick looked so earnest he about it he nearly laughed in his face. Blood singing. Hopeful for the first time. To any wesen, the answer at this point would have been painfully obvious. Nick would be able to smell it. His arousal. His receptiveness.  _All of it._  But Nick wasn't wesen. He was human, with benefits, and actually needed the words.

He smiled in spite of himself. Stomach flip-flopping when Nick's eyes widened. Looking like a man who'd just gotten the one thing he thought he couldn't ask for delivered to him on a silver platter.  
 __  
And wow, wasn't that just fucking flattering?  
  
"Because it is," he said hoarsely, hand inching off his seat into dead space. Somehow brushing Nick's fingers as they stretched above the emergency brake. "He chose you. And even though I don't remember, I can feel it."

His free hand came up to press against his chest. Suddenly cognisant that his heart was racing and so was Nick's. He could feel the frantic, excited beat of his pulse from where Nick had laced their fingers. Gripping his hand tightly even though they were both looking determinedly out of the windshield.

"He feels it- the me that remembers? He left all these little bread crumbs and they all lead back to you. The house smells like you because it makes him happy. And you smell like me because...because he can't stand the idea you'd smell like anyone else."

He wondered suddenly, as he looked determinedly out of the window at a smear of something distinctly insect glued to the windshield, what the Monroe who remembered the last eight months would think about all this. Would he have grabbed the opportunity if he'd the chance? Or would he have just pined? Self sacrificing and white knighting to the end?

He was greedier, he supposed. More willing to take a risk without all those months of baggage. Or maybe he was just different. The type if different that makes a difference when it comes down to taking chances.

"Wow," Nick breathed, pupils huge. "I-uh-"

The wolf under his skin sat up and stretched. Licking its chops in anticipation. Watching its prey slyly as his fingers twitched, wanting to touch.

"But...I mean..." he offered teasingly, pretending to backtrack with humor clear in his eyes. "I'm sure I'll thank you if you pretend none of this conversation ever happened."

But instead of laughing, Nick actually seemed to sober a bit, like he was being serious. Looking conflicted for a long moment before speaking. Just another reminder that this was so far from even  _their_  definition of normal and that Nick wanted- no,  _needed_  to double check. Just to make sure. Because that was who he was.  
 _  
God, no wonder he was kind of crazy about him.  
_  
"I shouldn't be pressing this when you aren't, well... _you_. But- should I?" Nick questioned.

He just stared at him.

"Because the truth is-  _god_ \- I really shouldn't be saying this but- I kind of...like you too?"

It came out as a question. Amusing him so much he couldn't help but parrot it back with a slow building grin. Just enough for the man to know where he stood on things.

"Like me?" he repeated.

"Yeah," Nick returned with a grin, palming the back of his neck in an awkward tell. "I mean, I guess I have for a while. Not really sure how that happened but, yeah..."

"Well. Huh," he murmured intelligently. Eyes drifting down to where their fingers were laced together. Something in his chest warming when he realized his palms almost dwarfed Nick's. Enjoying the difference in texture as he rubbed his thumb over the gun callouses and dry-blisters. Letting the moment rest as Nick moved a couple of inches closer. Raising an eyebrow when he let go of a receptive rumble in spite of himself.

"Hmmmm," Nick agreed. Slowly gravitating together in the cramped interior of the car as the world presumably went on spinning outside.

Not that he would have noticed.

He was too invested in  _this_.

In the moment of tension before everything finally just snapped.

Caught on taking that last leap into whatever this was going to be.

What  _they_  were going to be.

"We should wait...until I get my memory back," he offered softly. Awkward in the best way ever as Nick nodded. Knee jammed under the glovebox as he tried to bridge the remaining space.

"We should," the man agreed, closing in on him anyway. Lips red and parted ever so slightly. "We really.. _.really_  should."

Nick exhaled shakily. So close he felt it against his lips. Making his toes curl in his boots before something in his brain just went  _fuck it_ \- and he had his hand on the curve of Nick's cheek. Pulling him in the rest of the way and-

They startled apart like a clutch of frightened cats when the grind of a truck downshifting broke them apart. Rattling down the road until it was nothing but a puff of exhaust and the two of them looking at each other with wide eyes.

And just like that, they were laughing. Letting go of a series of rolling, honest chuckles that only built and rebounded off each other. Because the entire thing was ridiculously and good and maybe the best feeling he could remember having in a long time.

"Lets go home," Nick told him happily. Shaking his head as he cleared his throat and tried not to hack up a lung. Throat rough in that way it only really is after a good, long belly laugh.

And if he rested his hand on the man's thigh the entire way home?

Well, Nick didn't call him on it.


	5. Chapter 5

They were prepping a vegan lasagna later that night, trying not to seem too obvious about the way they kept making excuses to touch each other, when he caught a sudden scent through the cracked kitchen window.

"Someone is here," he hissed, shifting part way before shaking it off again. His wolf howling under his skin at the clear invasion of his territory. Whoever it was, they had guts, he'd give them that. Most blutbads go out of their way to avoid claimed territory. Usually it isn't worth the blood-feud. Hell, even that mail-carrier had changed his route to avoid him after that first tense stand-off on his front porch. Luckily for him. Apparently the half-feral asshole had been more interested in hunting prey unhampered then getting into a dispute over territory. "Another blutbad."

Nick set the knife carefully beside the cutting board. Eyes flicking from him, to the window, then back again as he eased the snaps of his holster open. Shadowing him into the living room as he followed the scent. Realizing with a confusing rush that he knew it as he stopped dead beside the couch.

 _It was that scent from before!_  
  
He liked to think they were ready for anything. Poised between fight or flight in the middle of his living room. Him with his claws out and Nick with his gun drawn - safety flicked off and finger ghosting the trigger.

So, in all honesty, the rather civilized sounding knock caught them both by surprise.

_What the actual hell?_

Nick looked at him questioningly.

He just shrugged. Deflating as they milled in the foyer and caught a glimpse of-

Nick relaxed immediately, turning to him with an open smile.

"Oh, it's Holly."

"Holly?" he echoed. Head cocking, confused. "Who is Holly?"

But Nick was already opening the door.

"Hey Holly, good to see you," Nick greeted warmly.

Holly turned out to be a teenage girl that smelled like warm vanilla sugar, tea tree oil and jasmine dryer sheets. She also happened to be a blutbad. And she was looking at him from the front porch like-

"Nick," she said slowly, as if by way of greeting. Peeling her eyes from his for a half-second before they snapped back again. Looking up at him with piercing eyes full of so much emotion and ferocity he was momentarily struck dumb. Having absolutely no idea what to do or say until he realized there was really only one thing he could do.

He took a step forward. Budging Nick safely out of the way before he inhaled, scenting her openly. Only to reel back a second later when he realized that like Nick, her scent wasn't just familiar, it had been ingrained somehow. Like he'd done it enough that no matter how faint, he'd always be able to recognize it.

And that was-  _well_ \- a lot to process.

Nick's hand was light, but steadying when it dropped to his lower back. Comforting and off-putting all at the same time as the girl watched them with a frown. Scenting the air herself now. On edge, but only because he was. Taking her cues from him, just like a cub would if-

"This isn't a good time, sweetheart," Nick admitted. Leaning out the door towards the road like he was looking for a car as she stepped wearily into the hall. "Where is your mom?"

"Home. I came," she answered halting, tucking a swath of brown hair behind her ears. Like words were unfamiliar and not to be trusted, but she was trying anyway. Still looking at him with a wrinkled frown as he stood there awkwardly. Feeling distinctly like he'd missed something major.

"You smell wrong," she told him suddenly, eyes flashing red. Her entire…wild vibe completely at odds with the smudge of glittery, cherry lip-stick and pink sweater she was wearing.

"There was an accident," Nick explained, nodding encouragingly as he rested his hand on his shoulder. Touching him again. Keeping him grounded. Reminding him this was okay. "He got hurt protecting me. He inhaled something from another wesen and he can't remember the last few months. But he'll be okay, I promise."

The look she sent him was so wounded he actually stepped forward.  _Wanting to touch_. To reassure. Stuck between not understanding where the feelings were coming from and wanting to bow to pressure and make it better anyway. Either way, it was enough encouragement for her to edge close. Tilting her head to him – submission, deference, respect or just invitation. As if she'd accepted him a long time ago.

He was only vaguely aware that his eyes had gone red. The animal under his skin prickling, but calm when she reached out slowly. Dragging her hand down his arm with a soft, female rumble. Clearly unhappy as she inched even closer. Zeroing in on the bandage around his forearm and the smaller one on his temple. Smelling them both before making a face.

"Fix," she demanded.

"We're working on it," Nick assured, clearing having no idea what he smelled like right now. Having to force himself not to nuzzle into the man's neck as the man exuded a series of comforting scents. Stuck between that and mortification as Holly fixed him with a knowing look that was admittedly a bit disturbing considering the kid couldn't have been more than sixteen, tops. "He inhaled some poison, but it should filter out of his system on its own."

"I'm sorry," he said finally, hoarse. Giving in to his own instincts for a brief moment at the scents she was giving up. Smelling like  _pup_ and  _needwarmcomfort_. "I'm sorry I don't remember."

She cocked her head, looking up at him with that serious face he had a feeling might be stuck there and shifted. Feeling himself do the same, rumbling loud enough that it echoed down the hall. Increasing in volume when she snarled in response. It was more a questioning sound than anything violent. Like she was trying to find what he'd lost in some way that felt significant even know he didn't understand why.

And for a long moment, they just stood there.

But apparently something seemed to satisfy her.

Because she shook away the shift a couple seconds later and nodded.

"Fix," she said again. Taking a step back towards the door, her hand on the knob before she turned around again. Pointing at him before turning that same finger on Nick, looking at them both significantly before speaking. "Remember, not alone…"

She was gone into the night before he could collect himself enough to say goodbye.

"I didn't know she visited you," the man said eventually, closing the door with a muted click. A question he didn't have an answer to clearly lurking in in the wings. Realizing with a jerk that Nick had been quiet this entire time, watching them silently.

He shrugged, exhaling unsteadily.

"Don't look at me," he answered. Completely at a loss as he listened to her footsteps start to lengthen when she made it to the woods.  _Running._  Having to clamp down on the itch that pulled at him to follow. Like it was something he usually did. Tearing through the underbrush as they left his territory behind and gradually closed in on hers.

He caught Nick looking at him. Not sure when he'd actively moved towards the window that looked out on the park. But aware enough after the fact that Nick had come to stand beside him. Content to stay silent as he worked things out in his head. Trying to figure out how he felt about having apparently adopted a half-feral blutbadden pup in the last eight months.

"Bet that's a story," he finally said. Remembering the way the girl had looked at him when she'd reminded him he wasn't alone. Wondering if the words were as familiar as they sounded in his head.

_Had he said that to her?_

_When?_

_And why did she seem so-_

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. It is," Nick hummed, slowly angling back towards the kitchen. Leaving him with the option of following him or staying at the window. He chose to follow, and because of that, wandered into the kitchen in time to accept the beer he handed him.

"I think you better start from the top," he said firmly.

* * *

By the time Nick was done, they were three beers in. Settled into the couch as he thought it through before saying anything. Ruefully wondering if his regime and vows were that weak or if part of him had been waiting for someone like Nick to come along and show him how much he could bend without breaking.

"I'm just surprised I let you talk me into that," he said finally, shaking his head and sending the man a smile before knocking back the rest of his beer. Knowing he should be more concerned about everything, but finding he just didn't have the energy.

"It didn't take much," Nick answered, grinning right back at him.

"Why do I get the feeling you're bad for my health?" he teased, only half joking. But Nick abruptly sobered again. Expression dropping.

"The truth is…I am," Nick admitted. "You've gotten hurt, and not just today. There were Reapers and- well, it hasn't exactly been easy. Sometimes I feel I put you in danger just by calling you. I tried not too, I swear I did. But I always kept circling back. I mean...a blutbad and a Grimm. We aren't exactly doing things by the book, are we?"

"Screw the book," he said bluntly. Meaning every word when Nick's head came up sharply. Looking at him with piercing eyes, eyes that'd never seemed more familiar. "I wouldn't do anything unless I wanted too. I'm a big blutbad, I make my own choices."

He hesitated. Pausing for a long moment before letting the rest go. Deciding it was the least he could do in the scheme of things. Because the truth was, they were both half right. Having Nick in his life  _was_  dangerous. But on the other hand, he hadn't felt so alive in years. And honestly? He wouldn't trade that feeling for anything.

He'd made his choice.

In more ways than one.

"Look. You have the books, you know the facts. Blutbads don't mesh well with others, other wesen, humans, even other blutbadden. But if I let you in... if we're...friends.  _If_   _we're_   _more_   _than_   _that-_  if she feels safe coming into my territory then there's a reason for it. And a good one."

He meant it too.

But Nick just surprised him by snorting a laugh and running a hand through his short hair. Shaking his head like he was both the best and most frustrating person alive, all at the same time.

"You're kind of amazing, you know that?"

He huffed a frustrated, happy sound.

"Look whose talking," he slung back, unable to keep the grin off his face.

Because really?

A Grimm who  _wanted_  to be with a blutbad?

What kind of a fairy-tale joke was that, anyway?

They ended up falling asleep on the couch like that. Waking up with a stiff neck and still nothing in the way of memories. But he found that just like the first night, he didn't regret it. Not when he'd spent the last few hours pressed up against Nick as their bodies moved softly in sleep. Both of them nearly falling off the couch when he woke up with Nick's feet in his lap and one of his hands resting softly on the man's side.

And okay, he had to admit that maybe it wasn't one of the Grimm Brother's originals.

But he had a feeling this new kind of fairy-tale was going to be one of his favorites.


	6. Chapter 6

"No, Hank, not today. You'll be fine without me? Good."

He'd just finished his Pilates when the sound of Nick on the phone made him look up. Popping his head into the kitchen as Nick paced around. Making him want to pop his ears to hear better as snatches of conversation came back sounding canned and tinny. Like coins being dropped into a well.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm fine now. Must have been a twenty-four hour bug or something. I probably could have powered through it, but I've got enough sick days saved up for the apocalypse anyway, so-"

He only got one half of the conversation, but it didn't take long for his eyebrows to make a bee-line for his hair.

"What do you mean you tracked my car? What the hell, Hank?"

His mouth dropped open. Fish-tailing unattractively the exact moment Nick turned around and caught him staring. Somehow taking his invasion of privacy in stride as he rolled his eyes and pointed to the phone. Mouthing 'sorry', before pivoting on his heel and pacing around the circumference of the kitchen again.

"Oh,  _yeah right_. You just happened to be in the neighborhood? What- fourteen blocks from your apartment and just saw my car?  _Uhuh._  Yes, the clock-maker. His name is Monroe, Hank. And no-  _Jesus Christ._  Look- he got hurt the other night, okay? The doctor said it's temporary memory loss. Should figure itself out on its own. No. No, he doesn't remember the last few months. And he doesn't have family in town, so no. Yeah, I know. Yes-  _Hey!_ "

He couldn't help but smirk at the indignation in the man's voice. Finding something new to fall in love with as Nick jammed the lid on the coffee grinder a little more firmly than necessary.

"Unbelievable. You and Wu have too much time on your hands. I'm hanging up. Gotta make breakfast- yes, I make breakfast. Why is that so hard to believe? That was one time! Look, just call me if you need me to come in, okay? Yeah, of course- I'm taking him to the doctor's today for a follow-up. He can't drive with no memory and doesn't like cabs.  _Yes, Hank_. Thanks. Alright. Bye."

"Everything okay?" he asked innocently, padding into the kitchen as Nick tossed his cell in the direction of the love seat and rolled his eyes.  
"Yeah, fine. I think Hank was reincarnated with the sole purpose of being my second mother," the man told him with a smile. Resting a beat before taking in his nonplussed expression and clarifying. "He's my partner at work."

He nodded, understanding.

"What was that about tracking your car? Because I feel like that was what reality TV feels like for those people who are addicted to watching it."

"Hank has a thing about personally testing out new equipment," Nick said with a groan. "I parked my car just up the road when we were dealing with the Smatherhorn thing. Hank was testing the new trackers because he was bored and found me on the map. Not at home fighting off the flu I definitely lied to him about. So now he thinks something else is going on."

The last bit came out cheeky. Deciding he liked everything about it almost immediately as the Grimm's expression lightened. Looking over at him until he couldn't help but grin and sidle closer.

"Something else, huh?" he hummed.

"Yeah," Nick answered, looking at him with low-slung lids that screamed sleepy interest. Breathy and open like he wouldn't stop him if he leaned in and-

He was inches away from the man's lips. Swaying close and inhaling greedily as he braced himself against the counter when Nick spoke again.

"Monroe...do you remember? Or-"

And that put the brakes on everything pretty damn quick.

"Sorry," Nick winced, pulling away. Shaking his head to clear the aroused fog that'd taken up residence when they'd moved closer. Wondering where all his self control had disappeared to as Nick started talking again. "Okay- that came out wrong. I just want to make sure this is okay. That  _we_  are going to be okay after you get your memory back."

They'd talked about this.

And here he was, pushing the envelope.

_Dammit._

"I'm sorry too," he answered, irritated at himself for the lapse while Nick looked visibly uncomfortable. Suddenly feeling remarkably exposed in his gym shorts and thin t-shirt. The sweat from his Pilates session cooling tacky on his skin, hard-on flagging. "I shouldn't have pushed."

"No, I want to," Nick said earnestly. Taking a step towards him that felt significant somehow. Fingers uncurling from the edge of the counter, gesturing in frustration. "Believe me, its just- It doesn't feel right if you're not... _all you_. I don't want to screw this up."

He nodded slowly. Part of him appeased because he could smell it. The sweet lilt of Nick's want and receptiveness thickening the air. It would have to be enough, for now.

"I know."

He was about to turn away when Nick broke the self-induced stalemate and grabbed his hand. Squeezing it gently as he looked up at him.

"I mean it, Nick insisted. "The moment you get your memory back..."

The smile on his face seemed set to stay as they puttered around making breakfast for the second day in a row. Serenely ignoring the fact that his kitchen wasn't really built for two in favor of having Nick close.

He could  _definitely_ get used to this.

* * *

They were clearing away the breakfast dishes when something occurred to him.

"Does Hank know?" he asked curiously. "About the whole Grimm thing? And wait, how does he even know where I live anyway?"

Nick turned to look at him, dish towel perched on the jut of his shoulder. Expression falling slightly. Enough to tell him it was a sore subject.

"No," Nick replied flatly. "He doesn't. No one does. I wish I could tell him. It would make my life a hell of a lot easier. I hate lying to him. I know he thinks something weird is going on. He's seeing me make these leaps in cases he can't follow because he doesn't know about wesen. Sooner or later he's going to get fed up and call me on it. …And I think he thinks we have something weird going on."

Nick eyed him, smile making a reappearance as he smirked with open humor. Apparently not one to wallow in things he couldn't change. But still, he couldn't help prodding him back to a more pleasant path anyway.

"Oh, really?" he replied, grinning. Unable to remember the last time he'd smiled so much as he had the past few days. "Do tell. I love juicy gossip as much as the next person. Even if it's about myself."

Nick snorted.

"Well, he was here the first time. Hell, he pulled me off you when I was convinced you'd taken that little girl. The second time was for a case actually, we needed help identifying an old watch and I told him I knew a guy," Nick explained with a smile. "It was a hard sell to convince him you and I were friendly. I didn't see it at the time, the truth was you were the only thing keeping my head above water at that point, but it was actually true. It happened so gradually I just woke up one day, called you about a case and realized you were one of the best friends I'd ever had."

He chewed on that for a while. Fighting tooth and nail to keep the stupid expression that wanted to make tracks across his face from spreading. Instead he sent him a smile, tilting his head teasingly.

"You came to me for my profession? I'm shocked."

Nick huffed a laugh, wiping a cloth over the counter before rinsing it out in the sink.

"Yeah, well, you didn't have to deal with the aftermath. I had pull something out of my ass to explain why we were in contact at all and then you kind of slipped and gave Hank enough to question exactly how much time we really spent together."

He laughed, surprising himself with the unfamiliar sound as he read between the lines.

"He thinks we're dating!" he crowed, delighted. Because honestly it  _was_  funny.

Nick groaned. Flicking him with the tea towel until he danced out of reach.

"Ugh, your just as bad as he is. He isn't going to drop this you know. Once he sinks his teeth into something he doesn't usually let go."

"Well, he isn't far off the mark, is he?" he pointed out mildly.

Nick rolled his eyes, but his scent was warm between them. Making him picture an embarrassed flush. He was debating the merits of calling him on it, just to see him squirm, before Nick was talking again.

"So, what do you want to do today? Because I was thinking, since yesterday didn't really pan out, maybe we were trying too hard? Maybe we should just let it happen, when it happens? …What do you think about a run in the woods? Something to get the kinks out and just not think for a while?"

His brain skidded to an ungraceful stop. Burning gears as the idea grew roots like the two metaphors were even remotely related.

"Look, I know you like it. And I know you don't do it much anymore because you're afraid of things getting out of control. But I was thinking, maybe if I went with you, you'd feel like you could? You know? If you trust me?"

The terrible part was he hadn't even gotten that far. He was still stuck on the idea of following Nick's scent. Hunting him through the trees. Feeling the air on his skin as they ran together. Imagining Nick would get ahead of him somehow, looking back at him in invitation. Daring him to do it - wanting him to – just before he tackled him into the long grass and-

It was one of the highest forms of courtship as far as blutbadden were concerned.

His head came up. Trying to figure out if Nick knew or if it was an innocent question. Pausing for a long moment before he finally asked himself if he really cared.

It had been a long time since he'd had a chase.

And Nick was offering.

Besides that, his will-power was at an all time low, so-

His mouth was dry with tense excitement when he finally nodded and fled upstairs to change. Pulse hammering in his chest like the opening notes to a brand new song as Nick's amused chuckle floated up the stairs after him.

* * *

Nick was collapsed in the grass in the backyard, panting unattractively when his cellphone rang.

He just rolled his eyes from where he was stretched out beside him. Feeling like a million bucks - better than he had for a long time - as he stretched languidly and watch him pat around for his phone. Highly amused when the Grimm made a pathetic sound before he finally pulled it out of his pocket. Flopping back into the grass with a groan as he tossed his arm over his eyes and answered blindly.

"Burkhardt. Hmm? Information on a case? Okay. Alright. Tell them to wait. Yeah. I'll be right in."

Nick turned his head to look at him, crushing the seeding grass until the air was rich with soil and green. Smelling like sweat, _him_  and wild things as he basked in the moment. Watching him through lids that felt like they were slung permanently at half mast as the Grimm yawned and rolled over.

"Will you be okay for a few hours?" Nick asked, propping himself up on his elbow. "I have to go to the precinct for a few hours to take some statements."

"Sure," he issued easily. Feeling sated and overly magnanimous as he scratched his belly. Rubbing at a smear of mud across his t-shirt before giving it up as a lost cause.

"Really?"

"Yeah," he answered, turning to look at him as some clouds temporarily masked the sun. "I'll do laundry, boring stuff."

"Just- don't go out, alright?" Nick told him distractedly, bare toes wiggling as he hauled himself up and looked around blearily for socks.

"Yes, mom," he snarked sarcastically. Feeling like he'd earned it when the man belted him in the face with a smelly, balled up missile. "I won't. Promise. Besides, what if I meet someone I'm supposed to know? That sounds awkward on all levels, man."

Which was true, actually. It didn't strike him as smart to venture too far when he didn't remember the last eight months. Especially when he was moonlighting as a Grimm's side-kick, best friend and maybe something else.

He tossed the sock back lazily. His animal side too well fed to feel anything other than loose as Nick groaned and ranged to his feet. Exhaling wetly as he toed into his shoes and murmured a quiet 'see ya later.'

The Grimm was halfway across the lawn before he stopped.

"Hey Monroe?"

"Yeah?" he questioned. Tipping his head so that he caught sight of him upside down, stalled by the fence. Looking back at him like this part was the most important.

"That was okay, wasn't it?"

He looked back at him for a long time. Thinking about how Nick was going to go to work smelling like him and the forest. How anyone with a wesen nose would be able to tell. And yeah, he let himself think about how all that made something in his chest slacken a fraction.

"Definitely," he answered, smiling wide as Nick mirrored him with an open grin. Waving at him as he tugged on the garden gate, heading up the gravel drive and out onto the street without saying anything.

He stayed there, splayed in the grass, until Nick's scent faded from the air. Finally pulling himself up and padding into the house where Nick's scent was still strong.

He hadn't been kidding about needing to do laundry.


	7. Chapter 7

He was two loads in - having to look at labels to figure out what was his and what was Nick's - when a knock on the door startled him enough that he nearly dropped his unscented, eco-friendly detergent all over the floor.

He opened the door cautiously. Catching sight of an unfamiliar, solid looking man on the front porch looking off towards the road before he flipped the lock. Hoping somewhat vainly for the least awkward outcome as the man turned around at the sound.

"Uh, hello?" he offered, when the African American man stared back at him. Frowning. Like he was looking for something on his face he didn't immediately find.

"Detective Griffin," the man replied, making him blink for a long awkward moment before he realized it was an introduction.

"Monroe," he offered guardedly. Trying not to jump to conclusions about why there was a police detective on his front porch. "How can I help you, detective?"

But if anything that just made the man's frown deepen. Looking at him for a long awkward beat before shaking his head. Expression re-shaping like he'd just been forced to reevaluate an opinion he really didn't want to.

He scented the air unobtrusively. Getting a nose full of cologne and lint. And, surprisingly, the fading scent of-

"You really don't remember me do you?"

 _Wait_.  
 _  
Oh, shit._

Was this Nick's partner?

But before he could do or say anything, the man was already talking. Extending his hand for him to shake as he took it carefully.

"We've met before, but call me Hank. Nick told me what happened. I have to say I don't think I believed it until just now."

_Hank._

He turned the name over in his head before shaking the man's hand. Aware there was a challenge in how firm the handshake was, but saying nothing considering the initial tension had already started to ease.

"Oh. Nick's partner?" he asked, knowing at this point but deciding it was easier to go through the motions than figure out a way to explain how he could smell it. How Nick's scent was worked into his pores and his clothes.

"That's right," the man answered, eying him carefully. Giving him the feeling he was being weighed and measured in real time. Which was disconcerting, considering he didn't have a clue where they stood with one another

"You called this morning," he said with a nod. "Nick's been helping me out since the accident. I told him I'd be fine, but he insisted. He isn't here right now though, he just got called in. Something about a witness coming forward?"

Hank's head came up, like he was surprised by that.

"Ah, okay, well- I haven't been back to the precinct since our first call today. Figured I'd stop by and talk to him about a couple of things on my lunch."

"Okay, so- uh- I'll tell him you stopped by then?" he offered, feeling like it was as natural of an out as they'd get at this point. Wanting it to be over so he could retreat back into the house and pretend that his life wasn't a complete disaster. Every part of him unsettled, but not threatened as he shuffled his socks awkwardly.

Only Hank didn't move.

Instead, things went from mildly mortifying to full-throttle awkward as the man winced - like even he was feeling it - before finally pushing forward anyway.

"Look. I don't what's going on with you and him, but Nick is my friend. Things haven't been the same since his Aunt died and Juliette left. And I'm here because-  _look_ ,  _man_  if you even look at him wrong, I'll-"

He blinked as realization sunk in.

Oh.

_Oh, wow._

Of all the things he expected today, getting scoped out by Nick's best friend and work partner and being read the riot act just wasn't one of them.

"No offense, but I'm not sure about you yet, man" Hank finished. "When Nick first came across you he was convinced you were our guy and he has pretty good instincts. I've learned to trust that, even if he's occasionally wrong. So when he says someone is bad news, I listen. And while I know you guys seem to be...friendly now...well, what can I say? The guy is trusting. Sometimes too trusting."

But far from being insulted, he was actually relieved. Grateful Nick was surrounded by people who cared about him and had his back. It reminded him of things he hadn't let himself think about in a long time - things like pack and mate and all the good stuff that came with it.

"You're a good friend," he said softly. Which seemed to catch Hank off guard. Making a decision he hoped wasn't going to blow up in his face as he held open the door and gestured for him to come in. "I just put on a fresh pot of coffee, want a cup?"

The man's eyes flicked to Nick's things spread across the couch as he toed off his boots and followed him inside. Looking immediately more comfortable – like just the fact they weren't sleeping together was a good sign - as he smothered a laugh by clearing his throat.

"Sorry about the mess, the last few days have been a little crazy. I'm still finding stuff I don't remember buying. Hard to figure out where to put it if I don't remember why I have it in the first place," he explained, aware the detective was looking around unobtrusively - looking for clues perhaps - as he filled their cups and gestured towards the kitchen table. The only area that didn't have a layer of stuff on it.

"Don't worry about it, if my cleaning lady didn't come every week I'd be living in a sea of dishes, dust and soap scum," Hank commented easily, taking a careful sip before his expression relaxed in surprise. "Good coffee."

"So I've been told," he said with a grin. "Found that blend years ago. I have to get it special ordered, but it's worth it. Life is too short to drink crap coffee."

"Sure like to explain that to the people who stock our breakroom," Hank commented ruefully. "Now I know why Nick visits so much."

The shift back to serious was a bit more sobering than he'd expected. Suddenly realizing that he wanted this to work not just for Nick's sake but for his as well. He'd never been a social guy, even before he went weider. It was blutbadden nature to be loners, more or less. But usually they had a core group of friends and family. He'd had to isolate himself when he'd adopted the weider lifestyle. Knowing that if he didn't he'd be tempted back into that way of life. Even his own parents didn't get it. Constantly letting him know - just not in so many words - that they were essentially waiting him out. Like this was a phase he'd drop sooner or later.

What he was trying to say was that, deep down, he missed people. And with his memories of the last months gone, he was feeling that need to connect like an itch he couldn't scratch.

It was a weird feeling overall, for a blutbad.

He sighed. Raising his eyes from his cup as Hank did the same. Watching him closely.

"Look, whatever happened before? I don't remember. I wish I could, but I don't. Nick told me the basics, but I have to tell you, I'm flying blind here."

He hesitated, silently asking the man to forgive him for the lie.

"I woke up in the middle of the forest. No idea what happened or why I was there. I had an aching head, some cuts and bruises. But everything was blank. I knew who I was, but what I'd had for breakfast? What jobs I am working on? For what clients? Where my car was? Where I was? Why?  _Nothing_. Nick only got involved because I was stuck in the middle of nowhere, at night, and panicked. I looked through my phone and he was the last person I texted. I read through enough to know he was probably not a serial killer and called him. He came and got me. Hauled my ass out if the forest, found where I'd parked and got me patched up. It was amazing."

"Sounds like Nick," Hank commented, nodding along enough that he figured the not so white lie was passable.

He thought back to that moment in the woods. When Nick materialized above him and nearly gave him a god damn heart attack. Trying to remember if there'd been anything going through his mind before he realized he was belly up below a Grimm.

"I didn't know him. I keep waiting to. But I trusted him – then and now. He came through the trees calling my name and that was the moment I knew everything was going to be okay. He told me how we met- which admittedly is super crazy. But he also told me that he felt guilty about the whole thing and came over to apologize. I invited him in for a beer and-"

"You became friends?" Hank interjected looking doubtful. Setting down his cup with a solid sound. Badge glinting from his belt-loops like a reminder.

"Hard to believe?"

"All I'm sayin' is if someone tackled me, accused me of kidnapping and murder and turned my entire house upside down, I probably wouldn't invite him into my house," Hank pointed out. "You don't remember, but I was there. I had to pull Nick off you and get you into cuffs. I remember the look you shot him. I thought we were going to have a situation on our hands."

And yeah, that was a point.

But obviously it hadn't been that simple.

Nick had barged his way into his life like he'd always been there.

Like there'd been a Nick-sized hole in him all along and he'd just been waiting for-

_Wait, he had?_

_Where had that come from?_

He grunted in acknowledgement. Because all things being equal, he could imagine what'd been going through his head when Nick had tackled him. And it was safe to say it probably hadn't been good.

"I won't lie to you," he said eventually. Palm scrit-scritching down his stubble as he tried to tackle the heart of what he figured the man was here for.

"It's generally not recommended to lie to police officer," Hank returned sarcastically, smiling wanly. Making it impossible to hold back the words that came next as he fixed him with an expression he hoped was somewhere between confusion and firmness.

"Is that what you're here as?"

Hank just looked at him for a moment. Like he was still deciding.

"No," Hank said eventually. Nodding like he was getting used to the idea in real time. Like he hadn't been sure until he'd let the word out into the open. "Like I said, I'm here because of Nick. Because I feel like there is something going on and you're caught up in the center of it. And yeah, maybe it's none of my business, maybe  _none_  of this is  _any_  of my business, but I'm here. For him."

He nodded, deciding to let this much go as Hank looked back at him with a challenge in his eyes. Wondering deep down what Hank knew and how much longer Nick was going to be able to keep him in the dark about this as the man's scent tarted with building anxiety.

"I may not know him," he admitted, picking up his coffee only to set it back down when he realized it'd gone cold. "But I know how it felt when he called my name and came out of the trees. He was the only thing that made sense. The only thing that makes the rest of this make sense. And when you have nothing else, that's a hell of a thing."

It wasn't even a lie.

Because having Nick here the past few days had been everything.

Even if they weren't moving in the direction he hoped they were.

Hank hummed out a thoughtful note.

"Can I top you up?" he asked automatically, appreciating the natural pause more than he usually did as Hank cleared his throat and nodded. Handing him his cup.

He was halfway to the kitchen when the iPod dock on the table switched to a soft, latin-style jazz and suddenly he was eating dinner alone. It was dark, not light. And it wasn't coffee he was drinking, but red wine. Feeling present in that moment despite the fragility of it. Getting the feeling it wasn't as solid as the floor underneath his feet or the coffee cups clinking in his hand.

He blinked, but the after-image didn't clear.

_Was this...was this a memory?_

The wine was a new brand he was trying out, a recommended pairing with the recipe he'd found online. He remembered now- it'd taken him three stores before he found it. The girl at the till had smelled like insomnia and tea-tree oil. She hadn't smiled. She'd just cashed him through and stood there – staring at nothing. Mouthing the words to a song blaring out of her ear-buds. Green and pink pig-tails bopping to the beat he shouldn't have been able to hear, and really wish he hadn't.

He hated rap music.

Almost as much as he hated eating alone.

He felt the excitement second-handed when his cell rang. Feeling his lips curl up in a small smile when he realized who it was.

 _"Hey, I'm actually glad you called. I found a whole bunch more information on that watch. Yeah, it was- what? What?!"_  
  
He hadn't finished his dinner.

Or his stupidly expensive wine.

He'd left for the hospital without turning off the music or even the lights. Too distracted by the broken-rib wheeze Nick had struggled through when he'd said his name - effectively breaking through his monologue about the watch before he had a chance to start.

The wall in front of him swam with double vision. Blurring at the edges and suddenly he was at a hospital. Nostrils flaring as Nick twitched in his sleep, every part of him screaming in pain. He watched himself struggle through a strange weight in his chest as he reached out and gentled his hand on the Grimm's arm. Waking him with a jerk as the man looked up at him, relaxed, then grunted in pain.  
 _  
"I don't know what you were just dreaming about, but it couldn't have been good."_

It was him.

He'd said that.

He'd had his coat in his hand and was halfway out the door before the man had even asked him to come. Barely able to keep from snarling as he fisted the steering wheel and started the engine.

The anger had been burning hot.

Someone or something had hurt Nick.

And- he didn't like that.

It'd surprised him because up until then, Nick had been an annoyance. Barging his way into his life like he owned it. Dragging him into the woods, more than once. Getting him involved with things he had no business getting within a hundred-mile radius of. But this-  _this_  had changed things. Because what he was feeling was downright territorial. Actually caring about this stupid, fledgling Grimm and-  
 _  
"Who did this to you?"_

He staggered, coffee cups clinking as he grabbed the back of the chair and held on tight. Aware that Hank had shifted behind him, maybe even getting to his feet. Saying something he didn't catch and he shook his head and-

_"You owe me five years!"_

A sudden flicker of memory made his fingers dig in. Finding himself in the middle of a quarry. Hidden in the long grass as indecision rattled through him like a consumption cough. Hesitating for only a second before dropping to his knees and fumbling with the bullets. The stink of Siegbarste making his eyes water as the ogre swung a meaty fist and Hank-  _Hank_   _was_   _there!_  Alone. Falling to the ground with a brutal slam as the Siegbarste looked around for something to finish the job.

He aimed down the barrel of the long rifle. Fingers smoothing over the silver engraving. Understanding, in a strange way, what it was like to be on the other side. Wondering, however briefly, how many Grimms had used this gun before him as his cheek brushed against the aged wood.

It wasn't until the Siegbarste picked up a rock that he had a clear shot.

Hank was on the ground, too winded to move.

He breathed out, once, letting his eyes fluttered closed. Then-

The slamming recoil rattled violently through his ribs. Remembering suddenly how they were sore for days afterwards. Looking down the scope as the Siegbarste dropped to the ground. Aware that Hank had wobbled to his feet, looking around- _looking for him_  before-

"You okay?" Hank asked, grounding him firmly in the present with a careful hand on his shoulder. Like he was afraid he was about to fall. Chasing the remnants of the memory-  _because_   _they_   _had_   _been_   _memories_  - firmly away as he tried his best to nod. Mouth dry.

"Yeah," he managed roughly, setting the cups down on the counter. "Just some flashes."

His hand fluttered down to his ribs in spite himself. Feeling the rattle from rifle blast ricocheting inside his chest. Knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt why the moment was so significant. It was the first time he'd-

Holy crap.

That was-

_Holy crap._

"Hey, sit down." Hank told him carefully, making him wonder what his face looked like as concern piped sharp in the man's scent. Shadowing him to the couch before angling to the kitchen and running the tap. "Rest for a second."

There was a strange beauty in getting back all those little fragments, overwhelming as it was. Trying not to fight the sensation that felt a lot like he was coming home the longer he paused on it. Very aware of the part or him that wanted to curl away. Always afraid of giving up too much too freely.

The truth was, it'd been a long time since he'd been this honest with himself.  
The last few days had been a ride, that was for damn sure.

He didn't comment on it when Hank took a bit too long in the kitchen. Wondering what the man was seeing in the dishes drying in the dish rack from breakfast. Or maybe the papers stuck under the magnets on the fridge. He didn't know, he wasn't a cop. More to the point, he wasn't Nick's best friend.

 _Jesus_.

He pursed his lips, wishing suddenly that he could tell him everything. That he could look him in the eye and say it had been him in the quarry. Him who'd fired the bullet before the ogre could slam the rock home.

_Because of Nick._

_It was all because of Nick._

_A Grimm._

Not that long ago, that would have sent him running for the hills.

A smile twitched across his lips, tugging at the dry corners.

It was the kind of smile that was more internal than anything else.

Private and for him alone as the man's footsteps creaked back.

"Here," Hank murmured, handing him a glass of water before sitting down across from him.

"Thanks."

The cool glass was a leveler to the system when he wrapped his hand around it.

"Has it happened before?"

"No," he issued. Scrubbing roughly at his beard before knocking back a mouthful of water. Looking at the other man with a new understanding. It might have been in pieces, but it was a hell of a lot more than he'd had a moment ago. "I've had a few impressions, I guess. Things that feel...Deja vu almost. Like I've done something or said something before, but I can't remember doing it."

"That's a good sign though, right? Remembering things?" Hank asked.

He nodded, hating that it came out a bit helplessly.

"Need me to call someone? Your doctor?"

He shook his head, trying to force his hands out of the tense fists that were now aching between the joints of his fingers. Taking a deep breath as he slumped back into the cushions.

"No… I'll be fine. I think it's normal. I have to get my memory back somehow, right?"

Then, without thinking-

"Besides, Nick will be back soon."

Hank didn't say anything to that. But his expression was conflicted enough to get his feelings across. Like he was trying his best to be okay with all this, but wasn't quite there yet. And honestly, he didn't blame him.

He nearly exploded a laugh through his nose when they both took a deep breath at the same time.

"Gotta face the music sometime, I guess," he murmured quietly. Wondering how intense it was going to be considering what little he'd already experienced had nearly knocked him on his ass.

But Hank seemed to take his words completely differently than he'd meant them. Choosing to lean forward and look him right in the eye. Hands flat on either knee like he was about to stand up again.

"Nick wouldn't be here if he didn't want to be," he offered kindly.

He had to hide the hint of a smile that wanted to break free as Hank let himself out not long after.

Because yeah, that was probably true.


	8. Chapter 8

He was in the middle of an extra session of Pilates - because it was either that or aggressively stare at the wall, waiting for something to happen - when his phone rang.

"Hey, I'm on my way home," Nick greeted, treating him to the sound of a slamming door and the jingle of keys. "Figured I'd pick up dinner. Pizza or Pad Thai?"

_About time._

"Depends how they cook the tofu," he interjected. Wracking his brains for the last time he'd had a decent Pad Thai anywhere. Which was really a shame because he loved Pad Thai. "Downtown or uptown?"

There was a gentle static exhale on the other end. Enough for him to picture Nick smiling into the phone. And maybe even rolling his eyes. Hearing the creak of hinges and a whinging thud before a gust of wind hazed the connection back to static for a couple of beats.

"Pad Thai it is, the one downtown is under new management and they basically have our order memorized," Nick told him, sounding happy. "I'll call it in and see you in about a half an hour, alright?"

It wasn't until he'd hung up that he realized what Nick had said.

 _Home._  
  
Nick said he was coming home.

* * *

"You aren't going to believe who was at the station," Nick shouted from the front hall. Toeing his shoes off with a series of sloppy kicks that would have normally made him worry about the paint job. Squeaking unrecyclable Styrofoam containers on top of a six pack of beer as he came around the corner in a rush of scent that made his head whip up so fast he nearly got whiplash.

Oh, yeah, he could.

_He could fucking smell it._

The stink of Smatherhorn put his hair on end. Eyes flashing red, as he inhaled with aggressive wuffs. Hands closing into brutal fists as he tried and failed not to lose it. Hating everything about it, from the stench to the painfully casual way Nick was still talking.

"So, I get there and it was the husband and wife - the parents of the girl. I took them to the park in front of the precinct and let them start talking. Because that was all they wanted to do.  _It's over. Handled._ Their daughter lost control - before and in the woods. We all knew that was an accident anyway. And the stuff in the car with that jock asshole? Self defense in my opinion, more or less. When I got involved in the case they panicked. Figured I was there to kill their daughter. Apparently the wife's brother has never really been very stable, so it didn't take much for him to take matters into his own hands when we found them in the woods."

There was no tang of blood - Smatherhorn or Nick's – but the Grimm was still giving off the rival wesen's scent in thick, pheromone-laden waves that made his throat itch. Practically able to tell where they'd leaned in close. Shared the share air. Maybe even touched-

And that was when his impulse control just shut off entirely.

He didn't say anything.

 _He_   _couldn't_.

If he opened his mouth his fangs would be there, itching for something to sink into.

Instead, he grabbed the Grimm by the shoulder and dragged him towards the stairs. Barely letting him deposit the take-out on the hall table as he hustled him up the landing. Wanting to show his teeth as Nick talked the entire damn way. Like he wasn't bothered or was deliberately not commenting on getting shoved into the bathroom and snarled at as he sniffed the air madly. Apparently taking his cues and stripping down just in time for him to push him flat against the shower tiles, half drowning them both in the spray.

"They are moving. Somewhere remote up north. Long enough for Sarah to ride out the rest of her teenage years and learn a little control," Nick continued, nonchalantly. like he  _wasn't_  woged out and deadly silent a few millimeters away. Gargling some water accidentally as he kept him in the center of the spray. Eyes roving up and down the man's spine and thighs. Alert for even the smallest scratch until it was obvious Nick was fine and he was just looking for the sake of his own enjoyment at this point.

The wolf in him was proud that his mate was so strong. So capable. While the human part was ready to tear the Grimm a new one for being so careless. Getting the impression it wasn't the first time either as Nick watched him over his shoulder, water streaming down the divot between his shoulder blades. Leaving him firmly caught between lust and rage.

Welcome to his life, apparently.

It wasn't until the offending smell had faded slightly that he was able to retreat. Lurching backwards as water dripped from his clothes. Pulling the curtain to give the man some privacy as he fell more that sat down on the toilet seat.

"I asked them about you," Nick continued after a moment. Shadow moving behind the curtain. "They made it seem like the effects would wear off on its own like we thought. So that's good."

The room was heavy with steam and humidity. Weighing down the air as he swallowed hard. The points of his claws digging painfully into the meat of his palms before he growled and shook them away.

"You shouldn't have gone alone," he finally rasped. Still so angry he could spit as he stuck to his breathing exercises. Aware this was the closest he'd been to losing control in a long time.  _Inhale. Exhale. Inhale-_

"I didn't know it was them until I got there. You were there when I got the call, Monroe. You knew as much as I did. I deal with C.I's all the time. Most don't want me to know they're coming before hand. Kind of goes with the territory. I figured it was going be something like that. Maybe a bystander that got up the nerve to come forward for a case. I give a lot of people my card."

The sudden smell of body wash - not his brand, but something that reminded him of Nick's scent - burst to life in the air above his head. Momentarily distracting him when the slick sound of skin gliding against skin reached him.

"You should have called me," he grated stubbornly. Rankled when Nick either carried on like he hadn't heard him or just flat out ignored him.

"It was weird, though. I got the impression they wanted my head on a platter anyway. But they said something about understanding 'your' claim. Why you did it. They said they didn't want anymore trouble, I got the impression they were kind of scared of you after that," Nick added, tossing a stray sock soaking wet over the shower curtain with a careless flick. Like trying his luck with an already ticked off blutbad was something he intended to make into an artform.

If he hadn't been so pissed off and grateful Nick was alive, he would have laughed. Probably hysterically. Realizing that yet again, the Monroe who had eight months worth of memory on him wouldn't have known subtly or self-control if it'd danced in front of him naked and on fire.  
 _  
They'd smelled his claim._

They'd interpreted him stepping into the fray in the forest as fighting for his mate.

Which he had been- Nick just hadn't known it.

_Jesus._

How long did this other version of him figure he could keep this up?

Did he have any idea how dangerous it was?

How much he was putting Nick at risk just by letting him run around smelling like-

_"So, how many of you blutbads are there?"_

" _First off, the plural is blutbaden. And I don't know. We don't socialize much. Bad things happen when we get into a pack. Especially when we see red."_

He blinked. Momentarily thrown. Head jerking up as a fragment of a memory splintered to the forefront. Getting a confused mish-mash of emotion - anxiety, anger and fear - as he remembered a vague outline of the moment itself.

They'd been downstairs, arguing. Broken glass from the window on top of his great grandfather's wood chest. A beer beading in his hand. He was wearing a green and black plaid shirt - soft and comfortably worn. And Nick- Nick had been a mess of smells. Making his anxiety spike like crazy. Enough that he felt jittery. Nervous. But still hyped with adrenaline.

Had he- had he gone through the window?

_Jesus._

He licked his lips. Too distracted to notice that the water had stopped running.

_"Guess what, pal? I'm not a blutbadden. I'm a cop. And if you know who's got her, you had better tell me right now."_

_"Please don't threaten me."_

_"I want to know who's got her!"_

Somewhere downstairs the wall remembered the thud. His house kept the echoes. Secreting them away to savor later. Like it had always known something he didn't. That the moment would be a beginning, not an end. Something he'd never asked for- never thought he'd get anywhere close to, and yet, here he was. Right in the middle of something that could be everything he'd ever dreamed.

Because he remembered the way the corner bit into his spine when Nick had crowded into his space. Staring at him with those ancient, dangerous eyes as a growl rumbled up from deep inside his throat. Struggling to keep the wolf back as the Grimm had him with his back against the wall.  _Threatening him_. So close all he'd need to do was shift, jerk forward and-

"You feeling better?" Nick asked, bringing him back to the present as he realized the steam had thinned and Nick was crouched calmly in front of him. Watching him wearily as he toweled off. Another towel barely clinging to his hips as the dissonance between now and that moment downstairs played out through tendons and nerves like it was fresh - like it'd just happened.

His upper lip curled in spite of himself as he got to his feet. Looming above him. Intimidating him. Pushing him gently back into the opposite wall. Unintentionally recreating the moment from before, only in reverse. This time  _he_ was in control. This time  _he_  was the one crowding the Grimm into a corner. Allowing himself to breathe the man's scent. Pleased when he couldn't detect any hint of Smatherhorn or Hank or anyone but him.

_Him._

"Monroe?"

"No," he growled, showing a mouthful of teeth. More surprised than anyone when the Grimm did exactly that. Letting himself be manhandled as he got right into his space and snarled. "Listen."

The command didn't make sense.

But Nick still understood somehow

Because he was Nick.

_Because he was his._

"Mine," he rasped, unsteady and vibrating with the need to do  _something_  as he crowded Nick into the wall by the bathroom door. Bracing his hands on either side of the man's head as he scented him. Checking for injuries or rival claims he knew weren't there. Goaded by instinct and tension that just kept growing the longer they kept this up. Unresolved and wanting.

And he was the reason why.

He needed to remember.

He had to.

His hand curled around the back of Nick's neck, claws out and rasping gently. Able to feel the jump of veins and muscles underneath. Wanting to tuck his nose into all that smooth human skin as he trailed the sharp of them down the carotid. Lulled by the pleasant,  _lush-lush_  of his mate's heartbeat as he swayed closer.

Wanting to taste.

Wanting-

"Monroe," Nick murmured warningly. Looking up at him with dark eyes. Familiar eyes. Eyes that would've normally made him shiver and retreat if this had been any other moment. If he hadn't been wrecked on the ifs and maybes. Angry that something could have happened and he hadn't been there to keep his stupid Grimm safe.

At least he took it as a warning.

After all, how could it be anything else?

But then- then Nick just  _gave_. Canting his head to the side and letting go of a sigh. Giving him permission to nose into his throat as the man let go of another sound - submissive and welcoming. Scent turning receptive. Open. Reminding him of tea curling from a mug on a cold day. Something laced with comfort and pleasant thoughts. Reminding him that Nick was here. That he was okay. That somehow everything had worked out and now he was in his house, letting him lick into the curve of his neck just to taste his skin. Snuffling at the clean salt of him as his claws gradually blunted and retreated.  
His wolf howled. Pacing. Somewhere between soothed and restless.

_Yes._

His.

He came back down from the aggressive high to find his head resting in the crux where neck met shoulder and Nick scratching his hands through his fur. The towel had slipped from the Grimm's hips ages ago. Replaced by his fingers petting over the joints. The action mindless and self-soothing, but it was still an absolute violation of personal space on so many levels and that was just the start of it.  
 _  
Jesus._

He recoiled with a jerk. Pulling a negative sound from Nick's throat as the Grimm went to pull him back instinctively. Only to pause when he flinched. Backing up all the way to the open bathroom door and keeping his eyes firmly above the belt as Nick cleared his throat and rescued his towel from the where it'd puddled over the floor.

"Sorry," he rasped. "I don't know what happened."

"I do," Nick answered, pulling on a pair of boxer shorts with little in the way of shame as he tossed the towel behind him. "You reached your limit. No wonder after the last few days. It's okay,  _really_."

He shook his head.

"I don't- it's not," he started. But Nick was there before he could finish. Closer than he should have been, but with an expression that killed any protest he could have mustered.

"Monroe, look at me.  _Look._  You were trying to tell me something, and I get it. I had it under control, but I know why you had to get that out. If I'd known it was them, I would have told you, okay?"

Nick was too open for his own good.

He was also a bit of a liar.

Because he might have. But there was enough hesitation in his scent to give him the impression that he would have probably weighed the decision pretty heavily in the wrong direction, the next time around.

"When we met that first time? After I almost got you arrested? You told me it was who I was. Being a Grimm. And believe it or not, that helped me come to grips with it. Then I went to the trailer and did some reading,  _a lot_  of reading. But more than that, I started seeing more than just the monsters in the shadows. These cases, the people,  _the wesen._  You helped me make sense of it. So, if I had a problem with  _this-_ any of it- I wouldn't be here."

He shook his head again. Chewing the acid reflex down like he could keep it all back even though he knew he owed him that much. Just another reminder that he hadn't always been like this. That this wasn't all of who he was, or who he'd been. Shifting in discomfort as he wondered how much this other Monroe had told him, if he'd told him anything at all.

"You have a lot of faith in me... I am not- I am not a good person."

This time it was Nick's turn to shake his head. Looking at him with the shadow of a smile. Like he'd been waiting for something exactly like this and was almost amused it was coming out of the wood-work now. The stereotypical closed-off reveal with the most messed up timing that somehow managed to be the best time after all. When everything is still sharp and maybe just a little bit hurtful, but both of them were in the mood to be forgiving.

"I know you've done things. But you're a good person, Monroe. You've showed that much a hundred times since I met you. No one really knows who they are until they've been tested. You have."

He opened his mouth, hotly. Ready to protest.

To say he  _had_ been tested and he'd been weak.

Succumbing to blood-lust and want, more than once.

Because it had been easier.

Because it had made the wolf inside quiet for the first time since the change.

Because for a brief moment in time he'd felt connected.

Connected to everything, the world, until the red haze had lifted and-

But Nick was talking again. Reaching up and resting his hand on his shoulder as his hair slowly started drying into damp little spikes. Making him look younger than he was. Young enough that if he hadn't known better, the rest of the words would have seemed empty.

"People show who they really are  _afterwards,_ Monroe. Everyone makes mistakes. We can't be strong all the time. You've done things you regret? Join the club. But you changed your life because you didn't want to be that person anymore. You made that choice.  _You did._ That's huge, Monroe. And that's who you are. That person that keeps trying."

He didn't know what to do with the feelings that followed, but they felt warm.

* * *

The Pad Thai was stone cold by the time they remembered it.

But surprisingly enough, it was the best he'd ever tasted.

The fact that he was eating it on the couch beside Nick, legs tangling, was completely beside the point.

_Obviously._


	9. Chapter 9

It was later, much later, long enough that his clocks had stopped chiming the hour, that he found himself moving restlessly downstairs. Going from the doors, to the front window, then to the kitchen to fiddle with the dishes drying in the rack as Nick settled himself on the couch. The sheets were creased and wrinkled, making his fingers itch to straighten them. But getting distracted before he could follow through whenever Nick wandered past smelling like toothpaste, mouthwash and that near constant buzz of  _hishishis._

He couldn't ignore the reason. Getting his memory back was the only thing he could think about. Figuring if he lingered enough, triggered himself enough, he might be able to remember more. He'd told Nick what he'd remembered in the bathroom and when Hank had showed up. But for some reason Nick didn't seem as frantic as he was for all the pieces to fall onto place.

Or maybe this was about something else entirely.

God knows he had no idea what the hell was going on anymore.

Especially inside his own head.

"Hey, I'm fine," Nick pointed out from his spot on the couch. Voice rough with that late night gruff he knew all too well from pulling all-nighters at his desk. Hunched over a difficult mechanism or three. "Get some sleep. Whatever it is, it can wait till morning."

He twitched, shoulders sloughing off in a sloppy drop to port.

"I can't," he sighed honestly.

"You can't?" Nick repeated, sitting up to look at him as he paused in the middle of the living room. Sock feet curling in the rug. Playing with the ragged tuffs until he forced himself to focus on staring out the front window for the dozenth time in less than an hour.

There was a beat before Nick spoke again.

"What do you need?"

 _'A sedative, probably,'_ he thought snarkily. Knowing it was self-defeating.

It used to be like this all the time.

When he'd first gone weider.

Always on edge.

_Raw._

Coasting the counter-weight of his fledgling control until he had to knock back half a bottle of whiskey just to keep himself from running howling into the woods. Feeling the itch under his skin as he imagined how sweet it would be to let go, just for the night.

It was a different type of self-control this time.

But way too similar for him to be comfortable with.

"Is this about today or just everything?" Nick asked, generous enough not to make the words seem prompting.

"Probably," he answered, too wound up to clarify as he finally dropped into the armchair opposite. Taking a series of deep breaths that didn't help at all – considering all it did was fill his nose with the source of his current problem.

His life was so fucking weird even he didn't know what to do with himself anymore.

Because honestly, only he could end up having a potential romantic partner turn into a problem.

"You can take the bed," he said finally. "I don't think I'll be able to sleep tonight anyway. One of us might as well be comfortable."

It was inappropriate. He knew that. It wasn't what normal people said or even offered to guests staying on their house. Especially when said guest was already settled on the couch and had been for days.  _Sleep in my bed. In my used sheets, please!_  That wasn't weird at all. Only it was. But then again, blutbad.

"Monroe."

He closed his eyes.

"I could come up with you...just to sleep."

He kept his eyes closed, barely.

_How the hell did Nick do that?_

The sigh that left him exited with enough weight that his breath caught. Tempted, for a long second, to laugh it off or even poke fun at the idea. That needing Nick simultaneously far away and as close as possible wasn't beating a stuttered, migraine-inducing tempo in the back of his skull.

Maybe he needed to get used to asking for the things he needed.

Maybe he needed to stop feeling guilty about those same things.

And maybe, just maybe, he should stop assuming that Nick wasn't a hundred percent sincere.  
 _  
Maybe._

He sighed, loudly.

Maybe he also needed to grow the hell up while he was at it.

"Only if you're okay with it," he said softly. "I just need you-"

" _Close_ ," Nick finished, nodding. "I know."

"Yeah," he trailed off, almost in a whisper. Breathing hard enough it was embarrassing.

They got up together, mutually awkward. Encouraged, in spite of himself, when Nick didn't bother with the blankets or even grab his pants as he led the way upstairs, boxers loose on his hips. Wearing the same shirt as the night before, worn enough that he could tell it was about as soft as anything.

Neither of them said anything until they were under the covers and the lights were off. Having to bite his lip to stop himself from saying something when he padded back from the bathroom to find Nick already on the side he liked least with the spare pillow tucked under his arm.

"Is this alright?" Nick asked, so close he could feel the exhale despite having his back to him. Staring into the dark as Nick huffed and curled his toes - twitching the sheets. Reminding him how long it'd been since he'd shared a bed with anyone.

"Yeah, it's fine."

It wasn't a lie.

Because while he wasn't relaxed, his muscles weren't pulling painfully in his chest anymore.

"Hey, come here," Nick hummed, one hand curving over his shoulder with barely a hitch as the Grimm rolled closer. Pulling him in like this was where they'd been heading all along. One arm resting on his hip like it belonged there. Finding himself relaxing almost immediately as the solid pressure settled into the curve of his spine.

For a long moment, he just breathed.

"I just want to _start_ ," he finally muttered. Somehow managing to articulate what he hadn't been able to before. How he'd spent most of his adult years stuck. Figuring that life – his life - was as good as it was going to get. But now he could see light at the end of the tunnel and wanted the train to just mow him over already. To be able to start something new with Nick. Like this.

Nick snorted.

"We have started. We're  _spooning_."

Somehow managing to make it sound so utterly juvenile he nearly shot a muscle trying to hold in a hysterical giggle. Body shaking under the protective arc of Nick's hand as his eyes hushed closed in spite himself. Grinning into the creases of his pillow as Nick laughed into the dark.

"And you will, you know? You  _will_  remember," Nick told him after a while. Snorting a huffing laugh into his neck, as if to make a point over how stupid he was being.

He fell asleep listening to Nick breathe.

It was kind of the best thing ever.

**Author's Note:**

> Reference:
> 
> \- abendrot: a German word, defined as the color of the sky as the sun sets.


End file.
